


(Mama)

by jatty



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Bullying, Child Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Psychological Trauma, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-03-07 22:19:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 84
Words: 351,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3185336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jatty/pseuds/jatty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She's not crazy, she's just sick." That's always been Frank's argument whenever his mother's behavior is brought into question. Whether she's yelling or hitting, or ignoring him altogether, Frank knows it's not his fault--she's just sick. She's not crazy.</p><p>Gerard doesn't see it that way. Working as the loss prevention manager for the local Spend N Save dollar store, Gerard has seen his share of crazies and hoodlums. So when he catches Frank stealing a pair of headphones, he doesn't hesitate to confront him. But what was meant to be a routine procedure turned quickly into a dangerous game when Mrs. Iero enters the mix. </p><p>Faced with losing his job if he allows Frank to steal, but knowing Frank will suffer severely if Mrs. Iero sees him being confronted by the staff for his thefts, Gerard becomes caught between doing what's legal and what's right--and things only get harder when Frank gets closer and closer, begging Gerard not to tell the cops about his mother because she's not crazy, she's just sick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm CRAZY excited about this new story, and I hope you will be too! It starts off kind of slow but I promise there's not shortage of action. It's a little different from what I normally write, but I hope that's okay! 
> 
> (Disclaimer: Gerard has a lot of negative views/stereotypical views on a lot of people. His attitude does not reflect my attitude toward dollar store shoppers. I shop at dollar stores, too, so this Gerard would probably have a negative view of me.)

_Chapter 1_

Gerard stared at the dreary front doors of the local Spend ‘N’ Save store. The outside of the building was badly kept, and the backlit sign was cracked with several of the bulbs burnt out and dark. 

It was no wonder thieves worked out close to two grand in products a month. Two grand! With numbers like that, Gerard was sure there was some inside problems going on as well. 

That was why he’d been called in. 

The Spend ‘N’ Save franchise had been bought out by a larger company that owned and managed dollar stores all across the north east, and Gerard had been promoted to Junior Loss Prevention Manager for most of the stores in East Jersey. Including the Spend ‘N’ Save. It was his chance to really prove himself, and maybe if he did well, when Jeff retired, Gerard could take his place and spend more time in an office and less time with the people. Because if there was one thing Gerard hated more than punks with sticky fingers, it was people—particularly the low-class trash that frequented his stores. 

Gerard took a deep breath and went inside. Immediately, the security system started beeping and all eyes turned to him. He’d intentionally placed an active clothing spike in his pocket to gauge whether or not the system was even working, and brandished it when an employee in a black polo approached him.

The employee looked at him in confusion for a moment before her manager rushed to her side. 

“Hey, it’s Gerard, right?” The manager said, extending his hand for Gerard to shake. They’d met once before over a video conference.

“Yes. Ray?” Gerard said, reaffirming what he already knew as he shook the manager’s hand and then took a step back to survey the store. It had opened an hour before and business was slow. It would pick up soon enough though. It was Friday, and Friday was Spend ‘N’ Save’s highest day of theft per week. 

“Yeah. You wanna show me around?”

“Sure. Cool, so…”

“Show me where the cameras are,” Gerard said, offering the manager a smile in hopes it would make him more comfortable. Yes, Ray and the rest of his staff was technically being audited, but they weren’t in trouble…yet. If Gerard found out they were stealing in more ways than just being loose with coupons, then Gerard would push to get them all replaced. Until then, it was best to just be stern but polite. Ray was new to managing after all, and had just transferred into the Spend ‘N’ Save after the merger. He used to be assistant manager at a Taco Bell or something like that before, but managing a restaurant was nothing like managing a store. 

Gerard spent most of the day with Ray, learning about the layout of the store and jotting down weaknesses in security. The area where most of the empty product boxes were found was in the Health and Beauty Aisles where there was a major gap in security. It was in its own little corner with no cameras, behind the service counter so the cashiers couldn’t see it if they were waiting on customers, and all the items in that department were small and easy to pocket. Even with the security tags in place, the thieves just had to open the boxes and empty the contents into their pockets. 

“It’s not in the budget right now, but I think you could _definitely_ benefit from a camera over here in the future,” Gerard said. 

“Would it be possible to maybe even get…I don’t know, like a dummy cam?”

“No. Those might seem to work, but the thieves will catch on that it’s deactivated or they’ll just find somewhere else to hide.”

“So then…what can—”

“The first thing you can do to cut back on theft is make the environment inhospitable for thieves. Most of your products are lost to repeat offenders. They know what they’re doing and they know how not to get caught. So what you need to do is make them uncomfortable. It’s not illegal to follow them around the store. If you see a lady you know steal your fabric softener sheets, follow her around. You can stand literally three inches behind her every step she takes and she can’t do shit about it. If you’re not busy and you see someone suspicious—follow them. Let them know you’re on to them.”

“Right,” Ray said, looking a little uncomfortable at the prospect of having to follow some of Jersey’s worst around his store. 

“And never, _ever_ let someone walk out that door if the security system goes off. You chase that mother fucker down if you have to. After a few months of that, most of your worst thieves will have backed off and gone on to easier targets. Never miss an opportunity to call the cops, either. A lot of you little stores like to let people walk with a warning. That’s like saying ‘please feel free to steal again.’ You catch ‘em, you call ‘em. Alright?” 

“Right…” 

Gerard was slated to leave the store around seven that evening, after the post-work rush and the afterschool crowd. 

As soon as the teenagers came in, Gerard took the opportunity to show Ray how to profile—not _racially_ profile, but _behaviorally_ profile. 

“They don’t want to say hi to you? Watch ‘em. They come in with another person and one of them disappears while another keeps asking you questions? Follow that other person. You have a couple come in and one of them starts causing a scene, go check what their spouse is doing.”

In a two hour span, Gerard had caught three people trying to make their way to the door with products in their pocket. Though he told Ray to never miss the opportunity to involve the cops, he said today was to be a learning day and merely confronted the thieves before they reached the doors.

“You wanna go put that toothpaste back in its box on the shelf, or do you want me to call the cops?” Gerard asked a woman in her thirties who’d just finished paying for a candy bar. Just because the customer paid, didn’t mean they paid for _everything._

The woman had told him she didn’t know what he was talking about, so Gerard merely repeated himself. 

“Hand it over now, and I don’t call the cops. Because if you walk out that door, I’m gonna stop you and bring you back in while Ray calls the cops. This is your last chance.”

So the woman growled and dug the tube of toothpaste out of the pocket of her baggy hoodie as well as a hairbrush and a bottle of ibuprofen. 

“You’re like…a dog on the hunt, man,” the cashier, Ellen, said to him during a moment of downtime. “You really know people.”

“I know that people are predictable. If someone looks like they’re stealing, they’re stealing. Young, old, Black, White, Asian, Latino—if they’re obviously trying to avoid you, they’re stealing from you. You just have to learn not to be afraid to confront them on their way out.”

“I don’t want shot over a bottle of aspirin,” Ellen said.

“If a guy comes in here with a gun and says open the drawer, push the security button and then open the drawer. If a cokehead woman has diapers stuffed in her shirt, let her get to the door and bring her back in and call the cops on her. She’s not gonna shoot you.”

“She might kick my ass,” Ellen said with a laugh.

“Maybe.” Gerard hated how timid everyone here was. Yes, there was always a chance that a thief might pull a weapon, but who wanted to add life in prison to their sentence over Pampers diapers?

All the staff needed was a bit more confidence in their own abilities, some pride in their store, and some tighter security. With those things in place, that two grad in losses each month could become two grand a year—or less.

Two grand a month. Gerard _still_ couldn’t believe it.

( ) ( ) ( )

Close to six o’clock the second rush of people came in. Among them was a very stern looking woman in a knit hat pulled down over her mess of dark curly hair, and her son who had his hands stuffed so deep into the pockets of his oversized jeans that Gerard immediately started to grin.

Like a shark smelling blood—like a dog on the hunt, as Ellen would have it—Gerard left his space behind the counter and started to follow the boy. 

At first he kept close to his mother’s side—closer than a kid his age really should—and Gerard almost backed off. It was bizarre for a teenage boy to walk so close to his mother, close enough to hold hands, and Gerard began to feel that maybe the kid wasn’t a thief, maybe he was just anxious—or mentally handicapped. 

“Frank, get me that can of sauce.” The woman pointed to the top shelf even though her son was only a little bit taller than she was. Gerard watched from the end of the aisle, pretending to be straightening the rack of potato chips, as the boy Frank got on tip toe to reach for a can of tomato sauce. As soon as he had the can in hand, his mother slapped him hard on the shoulder and the boy dropped the can onto the floor. “Did I _say_ I wanted generic, Frank? Did I _say_ I wanted _generic!?_ ”

The boy stammered for a moment as his mother continued to shriek at him, telling him to pick up the can off the floor and get the name brand product she wanted. 

“Get out of here—go…go get the paper plates.”

“Do you want the—”

“Get the damned plates, Frank! You know what we buy. We get the same thing every two fricken weeks.”

The boy scurried off and Gerard ducked out of the aisle to follow him. A regular customer? Maybe the kid was so clingy and awkward because his mother was a complete bitch, but in Gerard’s experience it was the kids from broken homes who stole the most product from his stores.

After Frank picked up the plates, Gerard followed him from a distance into the electronics aisle. He made a point to stay hidden as the teen looked over the selection of headphones and earbuds. Experience made it easy for Gerard to stifle his laugh as he caught Frank looking left and right before grabbing one of the single packs of earbuds off the peg. Once he had it, he looked around again and then—yes! He slipped it right into the pocket of his jeans.

Gerard backed off a bit after that, especially when Frank’s mother screeched for him from across the store. The woman was a regular bitch and being around people like her set Gerard’s stress level to the max. Even after Gerard returned to his place at the front of the store (because he already knew Frank had stolen one thing and it would be fun to see what else he pilfered rather than stalk him and spoil the surprise), he could hear the woman gripe at her son. 

“They come in a lot?” Gerard asked Ellen as she rang up an older gentleman.

“Yeah… That’s Mrs. Iero.” Her tone said more than her words. Mrs. Iero was a name she loathed to speak, as though she dreaded the mere thought of the woman. “Hate the way she treats her son.”

“No father?” Gerard asked, because it was so typical of a boy with not father figure to turn to a life of petty crime. 

“I don’t know. I think her husband left her or something.”

“Can’t blame her for that,” the old gentleman said as he took his change. He rolled his eyes when Mrs. Iero let out another loud scream and then departed the store with a friendly goodbye. 

“Did he take something?” Ellen asked.

“Who? That old guy? Nah. I watched him.”

“No, I mean Frankie.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh—please, _please_ don’t call the cops on Frankie,” Ellen said, turning around and looking at Gerard, her face gone completely pale.

“Hadn’t planned on it,” Gerard said, looking at her suspiciously. “You know he steals?”

“Well…”

“You let him walk out with stuff? That’s why you guys are losing product. I could have you fired on the spot for this.”

“His mom is _crazy._ ”

“That’s not your problem. Your problem is making sure punk kids like him don’t walk out of here with your products.”

“Well…can’t you confront him now? Before his mom gets up here? Please. _Please?_ Tell him to put it back and that if he does it again you’ll tell his mom. Please don’t get Frankie in trouble. Please? _Please!?_ ”

Her desperation made Gerard take a step back. He could understand that hearing Mrs. Iero yelling her head off was unpleasant, but how much worse could it get?

“Fine,” Gerard said. “Just this once.” Three hits was enough for one day, right?

So Gerard rolled his eyes and went to sniff out Frank again, not really sure he’d catch the boy away from his mother again. Yet Mrs. Iero was flipping through cheap photo frames and her son was nowhere to be seen. 

Gerard slipped through the aisles until he found the teen in the canned food aisle quickly stuffing a can of green beans into his pockets of all things.

“Put it back,” Gerard said. 

The boy jerked forward and smacked into the shelf, knocking over three of the cans and sending two onto the floor. 

“Take it out of your pocket and put it back, now.” Gerard stared the boy down, meeting the boy’s fearful gaze with one of stoic disinterest. 

Frank said nothing, but took the can out of his pocket and set it back on the self with a shaking hand. He kept his eyes trained on Gerard as he kneeled down to begin picking up the cans that had fallen. Gerard couldn’t see why Ellen had been so adamant about keeping Frank out of trouble. A kid who stole green beans was obviously a compulsive thief. At least the headphones had made sense.

“And take those headphones and whatever else you have in your pockets and hand them over.”

Frank’s face turned pale and he looked suddenly like he was about to cry.

Maybe he was mentally handicapped. That might explain why he stared, and why his mother was so forceful with him. Gerard could understand that it would be stressful dealing with a teenager stuck in the mindset of a tiny child.

“Please don’t tell my mom,” Frank said, emptying his pockets with badly trembling fingers. Not only did he have headphones, he’d picked up black nail polish, a can of tomato soup, and two fruit cups from a pack that was supposed to hold six. “Please, _please_ don’t tell mom.”

Gerard looked over the items handed to him by the teen, and then looked at the boy himself. Suddenly, it started to make a small bit of sense. The boy was thin—scary thin—and if he was pocketing food it wasn’t a compulsion. He was hungry. 

But then just as Gerard was about to turn and walk away with all of the products, a shrill voice came from the other end of the aisle and when Gerard looked up, Mrs. Iero was there.

“Frank Anthony, what the _hell_ is going on?” She wasn’t stupid. She saw her son standing, shaking in front of a store employee with a handful of assorted items. “Did he have those in his pockets?” The woman snapped, pushing her cart away and storming over to get a look at what Gerard had. “Nail polish? _Headphones!?_ How dare you!? How _dare_ you?”

Gerard found himself becoming more and more uncomfortable as the woman yelled and belittled her son until she slapped him hard across the mouth. Now it made sense. Gerard was trained to handle belligerent thieves, not their angry parents. One slap wasn’t enough for this mother. She hit him twice and then demanded that he turn out his pockets. 

Frank got slapped again when it was revealed he had another two fruit cups and a box of raisins hidden in his jeans pockets. In the pocket of his oversized hoodie he’d had a roll of tortillas. _Tortillas._

Kids his age were supposed to steal candy and pop, not fruit and bread.

“Get out to the car,” the woman snapped, unable to hit her son any more with hands full of product. “You just _wait_ until we get home. You just _wait._ ” And then, to Gerard as her son rushed out of the store. “Sir, I am _so_ sorry. I try to keep my eyes on him but he’s such a little shit. It’s this habit he has. Just like his father! I can’t let him out of my sight for one _second!_ Give those to me. Let me put them back. No, no—let _me_ put those back. He’s my son. I’ll deal with it. I’d make him do it himself, but he’d have it all back in his pockets as soon as my back’s turned.”

After hearing more about how ungrateful and spoiled Frank was, Gerard was able to slip away back to the front of the store where Ellen fixed him with a cold, unfriendly gaze. She refused to speak to him when he commented on the situation, and didn’t bother to force a smile when Mrs. Iero came through the checkout still muttering about her “stupid” son.

Her son who was standing beside a white station wagon in the parking lot fisting his hands in his hair and looking like he’d just witnessed a fatal car crash. As soon as Mrs. Iero wheeled her cart full of bag outside, Frank dropped to the ground with his arms over his head. 

“I can’t believe you ratted out Frankie,” Ellen said, leaving the counter and going back to the pet aisle where Ray was stocking shelves. Gerard followed her.

“Frankie gone yet?” Ray asked, not looking up from the shelf.

“Yeah—Mr. Loss Prevention Nazi ratted him out to his mom.”

“Aw, you told on Frankie?” Ray asked, looking up finally with an expression of pity.

“You also know he steals and you don’t try to stop it?” Gerard asked. It sucked the boy was getting slapped around, but it wasn’t Gerard’s fault and he refused to feel guilty. If the boy hadn’t stolen, he wouldn’t have gotten smacked. “You know, I could have you all replaced for this. It’s a conspiracy.”

“It’s _Frankie._ He’s _hungry._ ”

“So call CPS. Don’t let him steal from your store.” Gerard refused to hear any more and walked back to the front of the store to keep watch. The white station wagon was gone.

( ) ( ) ( )

His mom didn’t hit him right away. No. She was calm for the moment, completely peaceful as she had Frank put away their groceries. She’d gotten some of her frustration out in the store when she’s started smacking him, and that would keep her satisfied until Frank did something else to piss her off. His mother didn’t lash out when she wasn’t in the heat of the moment. She just didn’t know how to handle her anger when Frank did something that disappointed her.

That’s what she’d said in the car at least. 

That she was disappointed. That she was embarrassed of him. That he had no right to be stuffing his pockets full of food when they had a full pantry. 

To prove her point, she’d made a large dinner. Then just as Frank sat down to his plate she locked eyes with him from across the table.

“You’re a fuckin’ moron if you think I’m letting you eat one bite.”

Frank blinked back tears as he stared down at the plate of spaghetti. His mother would never let him waste food. She would wait until it was cold then make him eat it—maybe still at the table, maybe off the floor. 

When his mother had finished eating, she sent him a cold glare as if she’d just noticed his presence at her table and stood up. She put her plate in the sink and then grabbed his. Once Frank dared to look up at her, she slapped him with her free hand and then threw the plate on the ground, sending pasta and red sauce everywhere, staining the floor like blood.

“Clean this us up, then go to bed. I don’t want to hear a sound out of you.” When Frank stood up from the table, his mother grabbed his fork from the placemat and tossed it onto the ground as well. “Don’t let it go to waste.”

So as his mother washed her plate in the sink, Frank sank to his knees on the floor and started eating.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe it should be mentioned that this fic is Frikey at the start if you squint--if you want it to be. ~~If you like that kind of thing.~~

_Chapter 2_

Frank washed his face and hair in the bathroom sink as quickly as he could, knowing that at any minute his mother could start shrieking at him that he was making her late to work. She refused to leave for work until he was safely locked out of the house, not permitted to have a key of his own, but never gave him a ride to school. He’d woken up late and didn’t have time to shower, but he didn’t want to look as disgusting as he felt. The other kids had enough reasons to pick on him without having “greasy” and “pizza-face” added to the list of insults chucked at him on a daily basis. 

“Frank Antony, if you don’t get your _ass_ down here in _five seconds_ I will come up there, and let me _tell you,_ Frank, you do _not_ want to make me _come up there to get you!_ ”

Frank whimpered and hurriedly rinsed the shampoo out of his hair before working it dry with a towel. 

“Frank!”

“Coming, Momma!” Frank called, cursing to himself as he pulled on his shirt and hoodie. His hair was still wet and clung to his forehead and cheeks, and Frank tried to push the damp strands around in a way to cover his bruises since he hadn’t had time to cover them up.

“Damn you, Frank.” His mother started up the stairs and Frank whimpered as he struggled with the decision of waiting for her to reach him in the bathroom or meeting her on the stairs. Either way he would be slapped. Either way he was going to end up walking to school crying. “What the hell is this!?” She shrieked, waving to all of the water on the sink and counter. Frank had tried to wipe it up before she got there, but of course wasn’t fast enough. 

“I was just trying to wash my hair—” He was silenced when his mother slapped him. She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him out of the bathroom and down the stairs. Her tugging nearly caused him to fall multiple times but her pace never faltered. Frank hardly had time to grab his backpack up from the floor before his mother shoved him out onto the front stoop. 

“You’re an _embarrassment,_ Frankie. Now I have to let you go to school with wet hair and all those busybody teachers poking their noses where they don’t belong,” his mother muttered as she locked up the house and tucked the key away in her purse. “I swear to you, Frankie, if they call me at work today to complain, I’m taking the belt to you. I don’t care how old you are. You’re an embarrassment, _strictly_ an embarrassment.”

“Momma, stop,” Frank whispered, fussing with the strap on his backpack in an attempt to ward off the tears. He wished he could just walk away from her, just turn and run away so he didn’t have to hear anything else she had to say. But he’d done that before and she’d left him locked out of the house for three days and it had rained on the second. It was starting to get cold out and Frank didn’t want to be locked out again. 

“What? You don’t think it’s true?” His mother asked, looking him in the eyes. Her stare was cold, almost reptilian, with no light or love in them. “I can’t let you out of my sight for a minute and you’re stealing fruit cups from the dollar store and washing your hair in the sink like an animal.” Then her tone turned back into rage as she spat at him, “Aren’t you late for something? You’re making me late for work! Go, already! _Just go!_ ”

Officially dismissed, Frank stumbled off the front porch and hurried down the street in the direction of his high school. His mother made sure he was out of the house by six-thirty in the morning, and the building didn’t unlock until seven. Frank was made to wait outside until the door was unlocked and then stood by his locker, reorganizing his books and finishing the last bits of his homework in the few moments of peace before all the other students flooded in. Just as Frank closed his Algebra II textbook, his only real friend approached him and opened the locker right beside his. 

“Hey, Frankie,” he said.

“Hey, Mikey.”

“Ouch, what happened to your face?” Mikey asked, looking at Frank and cringing in vicarious pain at the dark bruises and fresh red mark on Frank’s left cheek. 

“Mom,” Frank mumbled, getting out the books he would need for his first round of classes.

“Jeez… Are you sure you don’t want to run away to my house? My mom wouldn’t care.”

“Your mom wouldn’t, but mine would,” Frank said. It was a nice fantasy and he used to entertain it before when he’d still been young, but learned fast that he’d never have the courage to actually leave his mother. She would just beat him worse once he came home or after she finally found him. Despite the numerous times she’d locked him out in the cold for a night or two, she would never allow him to escape her—abandon her like his father had. 

“Your mom is a psycho,” Mikey mumbled.

“Don’t say that,” Frank said, looking at Mikey coldly as he slammed his locker shut.

“What? It’s _true._ ”

“No, it’s not. Mom’s sick. She’s just sick.”

“My big brother is sick and he doesn’t beat up people.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Frank mumbled as the two walked to homeroom together. 

“Dude, just know that if you need to, you can crash at my place. My mom won’t care.”

“I don’t need to crash at your place,” Frank said, bitterness coming through though he didn’t mean for it to. It was hard enough dealing with his mother’s criticisms, he didn’t need Mikey thinking he couldn’t take care of himself too. He also didn’t need one more person meddling in his affairs and setting his mother off. It was bad enough that the school had contacted her the week before about the bruises on his cheeks. Frank had been forced to see the counselor whom he’d told that bullies had beat him up the night before when he’d been walking home from school. Without any prompting, his mother told the same story when she’d been called. 

It was a rehearsed story, one that had been drilled into Frank’s head from the winter after his father walked out on him. His mother had been so kind before then… Frank wished beyond belief that things could go back to the way they had been before. Back when his mother loved him and his father acted as a buffer when she was in a bad mood.

“Wet hair again this morning, Iero?” The teacher asked as he walked in the room.

“Blow drier broke,” Frank said, shrugging indifferently.

“You’re going to catch a cold if you walk around with wet hair,” the teacher added, laughing as he unwittingly drew everyone’s attention to Frank who shrank down in his seat. 

“Could help you out with that, Iero,” one of the jocks at the front of the room said. “Could borrow my dad’s clippers and…” He made an electronic buzzing sound and moved his hand in a sheering gesture, implying he’d like to shave off Frank’s hair—the only defense he had left. 

He could hide behind his long bangs and move strands around to cover his bruises or the marks on his neck. It was also the only part of his appearance that even looked close to edgy these days. All of his clothes were ill-fitting or ripped and his mother refused to buy him new ones until…well, until the idea struck her that she was being judged for her child’s poor appearance. Then she would shove Frank in the car, drive him to the mall and make him pick out all sorts of clothes—all sorts of clothes they couldn’t afford—and then dispose of every article of clothing he’d had before the outrageous trip. Then when the credit card bill came, his mother would let him have it, screaming about how ungrateful he was and how he needed to take better care of his clothes so she wouldn’t ever have to spend so much money they didn’t have on clothes. 

Frank sighed shakily as he took a mental inventory of the clothes he had at home. They weren’t ratty yet, but they were baggy… The last time his clothes had gotten too baggy his mother had made him go to the mall. Frank desperately hoped another shopping trip wasn’t coming up anytime soon…

( ) ( ) ( )

It was nearing late afternoon, early evening and Gerard’s shift of hunting out crooks at the Spend N Save was coming to a close. He had one hour left to go and the store had gone quiet after the mid-day rush. 

“Oh, here we go,” Ellen said, nudging Gerard where he leaned against the unused register bay. “Another young one. Want to follow him or does he smell clean?”

Gerard looked toward the door just as a scrawny teenager with a bad faux hawk and thick glasses walked through the front door. When the boy looked his way, his face lit up and he waved. 

“Hey! I didn’t think you worked today.”

“Hey—what’s up, Mikey?” Gerard said straightening himself and pretending to look busy so his little brother wouldn’t start taunting him about laying around both at home _and_ at work.

“You know him?” Ellen asked, looking from the boy to Gerard.

“He’s my brother,” Gerard said as Mikey walked over to the counter. “What are you doing on this side of town? You know Mom wants you to go home right after school.”

“Yeah, but my friend’s mom doesn’t get home til five-thirty and she locks him out.”

“Right… So you come to my store by yourself?” Gerard asked, prying for more information.

“Nah, he’s waiting outside. Said he didn’t want to come in. I don’t know. He’s kinda weird.”

“All your friends are weird,” Gerard mumbled, leaning over to look out the store’s large front windows in search of Mikey’s so-called friend. He couldn’t see anyone outside anywhere except an old woman pushing her shopping cart. 

“Do you need help finding anything?” Ellen asked, her way of butting into their conversation.

“Nah. I’m gonna buy some snacks.”

“Mom gives you that money for _food,_ not snacks, Mikey.”

“Relax,” Mikey said, pushing his glasses up his nose while rolling his eyes. “I’m just getting a couple bags of chips and some fruit cups.”

“Fruit cups? You don’t even eat fruit,” Gerard said, stepping out from behind the counter to follow his brother around the store, partially for the company and partially out of habit.

“It’s not for me. It’s for my friend.”

“Oh, yeah? And what’s your friend’s name?”

“What do you care?” Mikey asked, making it obvious by his tone that he was withholding the information merely to make his older brother squirm, knowing it would irritate Gerard to have his question negated. At work he was supposedly someone important. A “Corporate Official.” But to Mikey he was still just Gerard, his dorky older brother. 

“Cause I had some kid in here the other day stealing fruit cups,” Gerard said.

“Okay, you made that up. No kid steals fruit cups,” Mikey said, grabbing a pack of peaches and mandarin oranges off the shelf.

“He did. He also had cans of green beans and a pack of tortillas.”

“And you made him put them back?” Mikey snapped. “Dude, he was probably starving if he’s stealing green beans and tortillas.”

“Stealing is stealing. We’re a Spend N Save, not a community pantry.”

“You’re a dick,” Mikey said absently as he picked out a bag of honey mustard chips as well as sour cream and onion ones. “Do these have real dairy in them?” Mikey asked, looking over the packaging.

“Why do you care?”

“My friend is lactose intolerant.”

“Mikey, they’re a dollar a bag. I doubt they have real dairy.”

“Right… Just dairy flavored by-product and god knows what else,” Mikey said before going back down the same aisle they’d just come to reach the drink coolers. 

“Do you have money for all of this?” Gerard asked as Mikey picked out a bottle of Coke and a carton of orange juice.

“Yeah,” Mikey drawled, not at all sounding convincing.

“I’m paying for this, aren’t I?” Gerard said with a heavy sigh.

“Yep.” 

“Damnit, Mikey.”

“Hey! That’s not appropriate language for a family store,” Ray said jokingly, popping out from around the corner where he was setting up an end-cap advertising cookware. 

“Yeah, Gerard, that’s not appropriate language for a family store. I’m offended. I might have to call corporate,” Mikey sneered.

“Shut up.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll tell Mom on you.”

“Fuck you,” Mikey said, laughing and hurrying over to the checkout counter where Gerard was forced to enter his employee number and pay. 

( ) ( ) ( )

They sat together under a tree in the park to eat. It was almost a romantic scene, except Frank was his best friend, not his boyfriend, and even if they were dating Frank was too busy sucking the last bits of juice out of the mandarin orange fruit cup to start sucking face. 

“Isn’t your mom going to wonder why you’re not hungry for dinner?” Mikey asked Frank who was digging into the last of the peach fruit cups. He’d finished his orange juice on their walk to the park, then ate all of the oranges and most of the peach cups in under fifteen minutes and showed no signs of having his appetite curbed. 

“I’m not getting dinner tonight,” Frank said with his mouth full.

“What makes you think that?” Mikey asked.

“’Cause she yelled at me this morning. If she yells at me in the morning I don’t get dinner.”

He said it like it was no big deal. Like starving and getting beaten was nothing Mikey needed to be worried about… Mikey felt so bad for his friend, but there was nothing he could do. Frank panicked at the thought of someone telling the police—had actually quit talking to Mikey for weeks when Mikey swore to make good on his threat after Frank’s wrist had been broken by his mother the year before. 

“She doesn’t give you lunch money, then she doesn’t give you dinner…”

“Yeah, but—”

“And she yells at you every morning,” Mikey said.

“Yeah. I mean, I eat enough.” Frank looked at Mikey with a nervous expression, knowing his argument had no credibility when he’d had to rely on Mikey to buy him orange juice and fruit cups to keep him sustained until the evening. 

“Frank… I’m worried about you, ya know? This isn’t right.”

“What?” Frank asked, like he didn’t know.

“I shouldn’t have to buy you food. Your mom should—”

“I never said you _had_ to!” Frank yelled, looking close to tears.

“You don’t _have_ to say it. You’re _starving._ ”

“I’m fine! It’s—God, it’s none of your business okay? Just… Just forget I ever told you anything!” Frank said, looking remorsefully down at the last bits of peaches and juice in his fruit cup before throwing it down on the grass and grabbing his backpack.

“Frank, don’t—”

“Leave me alone,” Frank snapped, standing up and quickly and throwing his bag onto his shoulder. 

Mikey stood up and tried following after him, but Frank snapped at Mikey to stay away from him. 

“Frank, I didn’t meant it like that,” Mikey said, following Frank from a few paces behind. “I just don’t like seeing you so unhappy because your mom is a jerk!”

“She’s _sick!_ And it’s none of your business! I’m sorry I ever told you about her!”

“Frank!” Mikey tried to grab for him, but Frank broke into a run and Mikey stopped his pursuit. Sometimes it was best to just give Frankie his space.


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3_

When Mikey got home, late for dinner, Gerard and his parents were all sitting at the table expectantly. Gerard couldn’t help but feel that something had gone wrong, very wrong in the hours since Mikey had stopped by the store and now. 

“Where’ve you been?” His mother asked. “I tried calling you.”

“Nowhere,” Mikey snapped. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Where are you going?” She asked when Mikey walked through the dining room and started for the stairs.

“I’m not hungry.”

Their mother turned to look at Gerard who rolled his eyes and then got up from the table to follow his brother upstairs. Since they were “both young” as his mother put it, she always left him to investigate when Mikey was mad about something. For the most part it was useful. Mikey would tell Gerard things he would never tell their parents, and Gerard would filter down his answers into synonymous lies to keep his parents from pushing the issue when Mikey didn’t want to talk. 

So Gerard got up from the table and went upstairs after Mikey even though his brother shouted at him to go away. 

“You know I can’t,” Gerard said, going into Mikey’s room despite the door having been slammed in his face mere seconds before. “What happened? Did you and your friend have a fight?”

“Obviously,” Mikey growled, dropping down on his bed and beginning to work at the laces of his Converse shoes. 

“What happened?”

“What do you care?”

“I care because you’re upset…and because Mom’s not gonna let me eat if I don’t make sure you’re not gonna slit your wrists up here.”

“Well don’t worry, I’m not gonna kill myself while you’re eating dinner.”

“Just tell me what happened,” Gerard said, sighing heavily. “I’ve had a long day. An old guy kicked me in the balls when I caught him stealing mouth wash. I don’t need you busting my balls too.”

“Did that really happen?” Mikey asked, only looking a little humored. 

“Yeah! I work for a dollar store chain. You can’t make this shit up.” After a moment he added, “So what happened?”

“It’s complicated.”

“How complicated?”

“It’s not really my business to tell,” Mikey said with a heavy sigh. 

“If it’s bothering you, then it’s your business—and you’re my business, so it’s my business too. So, by the order of ownership or whatever, you need to tell me so I can help out.”

“You _can’t._ That’s the thing. It’s not _my_ problem either.”

“Well, it’s bugging you so can you stop stalling and just tell me already?” Gerard asked, sitting next to Mikey on the bed after his brother finished kicking off his shoes. 

“I said something stupid to my friend and now he won’t talk to me.”

“He probably just needs some time to relax.”

“You don’t know Frank.”

“Frank?” Gerard said, the name setting off alarms in his head. Wasn’t Frank the kid who stole fruit cups and green beans? 

“Yeah. _Frank._ ”

“And what did you say to…to Frank?”

“I told him his mom is a psycho bitch and that she needs to let him eat,” Mikey said, bitterness still lacing his tone of voice.

“Well I hope you didn’t say it _exactly_ like that,” Gerard said, cringing. There was no mistaking it. There was only one psycho-bitch Gerard knew of with a son named Frank who desperately needed to eat.

“I pretty much did. I can’t stand it, Gerard! She _hits_ him, she _starves_ him, she _yells_ at him every day… It makes me mad. And when I told him she should be the one buying him food he…he got pissed off and ran away.”

“Mikey, that’s his mom. You can’t say that stuff about her.”

“She’s mean.”

“She’s his mom,” Gerard said, shrugging. 

“He says she’s sick, but she’s really just crazy.”

“Being crazy is a sickness, you know? Remember when I was sick?”

“That’s different. You didn’t hurt anybody. I could get it if she drank and slapped him, you know? At least then there’s a reason. But she does it whether she’s sober or not and it…it pisses me off.” Mikey turned away to look at the wall and Gerard flinched a little, afraid his little brother was about to start crying. 

He felt even more guilty now for calling out Frank for stealing from his store and getting him in trouble with his mother. Knowing he was Mikey’s friend wouldn’t have changed anything, but it merely rubbed salt in his wounds. Most thieves weren’t like Frank. Most thieves Frank’s age weren’t desperate and hungry—they just wanted candy and pop. He couldn’t let Frank steal from his store, especially not now that he knew Frank was Mikey’s friend—or former friend considering—because if corporate ever found out they could fire him on the spot… And Gerard liked his job.

“Mikey, how come I’m only hearing about Frank now? How long have you two been friends?”

“I don’t know, a couple years. I just don’t know how to talk about Frank. He’s not allowed to go to friend’s houses, I’m not allowed in his house, his mom beats him up and he made me promise not to tell. It’s easier to not talk about him at all than to try censoring everything I say about him…”

“Does Frank…have any other family members, Mikey? I could inform the school and make it an anonymous tip. If he’s got a relative in the area—”

“He doesn’t,” Mikey said. “Don’t call the school. If you do…his mom will probably just kill him.”

Gerard sighed and let the conversation go. He wished there was more he could do, but if Mrs. Iero didn’t kill her son at the threat of having him taken—having her control taken away—Frank would just end up in foster care and that fate could be even worse. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank didn’t know why he thought he could get away with it. He just didn’t know… Maybe it was the exhaustion, maybe it was his thirst or his hunger, or maybe he was just going crazy. He didn’t know why this time when he went into the Spend N Save with his mother, he thought he’d get away with it when he pocketed eight fruit cups, four boxes of raisins, a small bottle of sunflower seeds, and two cans of green beans. Every time he’d grab something he’d _try_ to convince himself to put it back, but it ended up in his pockets anyway. He was just so _hungry_ and his mom had already told him he didn’t deserve to eat that night because he’d failed his Algebra II test.

It wasn’t his _fault_ though! He couldn’t sleep at night because he was hungry and still upset over his decision to stop talking to Mikey. Every part of his brain meant to control impulses and judgment had ceased working and all he could focus on was “hungry,” “thirsty,” “edible,” “pocket it.”

So when the store manager (or whoever that guy with the stringy black hair and skinny jeans was) came around the corner and raised an eyebrow at him, Frank couldn’t even help it when he burst into tears. There he was—a sixteen year old boy—sobbing in the middle of a dollar store. Without any prompting he started emptying his pockets while the manager just stared.

Had he kept his composure, he might’ve gotten out of the store alright, but the humiliation and fatigue had eaten away at his brain and Frank couldn’t help but stand there crying as his pockets spilled their secrets. His mother heard the sound from the other side of the store and shrieked at him before delivering blow after blow to his cheek—telling him to apologize to the manager, apologizing to the manager for him, and then telling him to get out to the car before she _really got angry._

But Frank couldn’t get out to the car. He couldn’t see through his tears to take a single step. All he wanted was to eat and take a nap and call Mikey and say he was sorry he freaked out—tell Mikey he was sorry, that his mom was crazy and he just didn’t want to admit it because he was going crazy too, but going crazy was a hard thing to face on his own so he really needed Mikey to forgive him. 

When Frank sank to his knees in the middle of the soda and chip aisle of the Spend N Save, he didn’t know if he was pleading with his mother to forgive him or his best friend. 

“Get up! Get up, now, Frank! _Get up now!_ ” 

Frank screamed out in both pain and humiliation as his mother pulled him up by his hair. He wanted to compose himself, to behave so he didn’t provoke his mother to do worse than she already had planned, but once the tears had started he was left at their mercy.

“Hey! Hey, that’s _enough!_ Do you hear me? That’s enough.”

Frank felt himself get yanked away from his mother’s hands, but instead of being held in a protective embrace, he was just pushed aside and collapsed against one of the store shelves, too disoriented to catch himself.

“Sir, I’m so sorry he was trying to take things from you, but I assure you I can handle this. I’m his _mother._ ”

“You’re lucky I don’t call CPS on you, do you hear me?” The manager snapped, like some shrill-voiced angel. Frank didn’t want his mother to get into any trouble, but he was willing to do almost anything to get a meal—or a drink. He was so fuckin’ thirsty.

“You have no right to threaten me! I have a _right_ to discipline my child.”

“Discipline? Yeah, maybe. Smack him in the face and pull on his hair? No. No, you don’t.”

“You can’t talk to me like this.” His mother’s voice took on a deep, vicious tone that Frank had come to associate with the very worst of his beatings and he started staggering out of the aisle. 

“I’m gonna go to the car, Momma. I’m sorry—I’m really sorry, Momma. I’ll go wait by the car,” he stammered, sneaking away toward the front of the store. He felt someone try to grab him on his way out, but Frank jerked away, fearful that they knew he still had the bottle of sunflower seeds in his hoodie pocket when he ran. 

When he got out to the parking lot, he hid behind his mother’s white car and started unwrapping the sunflower seed bottle with shaking hands. Between his labored breaths and his sobs, Frank managed to get most of the seeds swallowed before he heard his mother’s high heels clicking on the asphalt with stern determination. Still whimpering in fear, Frank swallowed all of the seeds in his mouth and threw the bottle as far from him as he could before his mother rounded the car and stared down at him with her hands on her hips. She had no bags in her hands and Frank hadn’t heard a cart being pushed along with her.

He’d made it so she’d been asked to leave before she could buy any of her things.

“Get. In. The. Car, Frank. I will not ask you again.”

Frank slowly got to his feet and opened the passenger side door and got into the car, trembling and whimpering in fear. She wouldn’t hit him in the car, no. Especially not now that she’d been called out on her actions. She would wait until they were home. Frank knew it. He could _feel_ it. 

“When we get home, Frank, I expect you to go to your room,” she said in her pleasant, receptionist voice as if she were telling him where he could find Dr. Kropf or where the nearest drinking fountain was placed on the hospital’s first floor. “I think you know what comes next.”

And Frank nodded, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to block out the world or maybe make himself wake up from this awful, terrible dream. 

( ) ( ) ( )

“Did you _have_ to do that? Huh? Did you _have_ to?” Ray snapped once Mrs. Iero and Frank had pulled away.

“Yes. Yes, actually, I did,” Gerard said, trying not to let himself feel like a complete sack of shit.

“Well I hope you’re happy! I would’ve paid for his stuff, you know? I was going to wait until they left and buy some fruit cups and canned shit and then put it back! God, you’re a fucking asshole.”

“At least I stopped her from hitting him,” Gerard said. He couldn’t let himself feel like the bad guy. Frank should know not to steal, especially from his store. He knew Gerard was watching him…

“Yeah, for _now._ But you pissed her off so you know she’s just gonna beat him worse when they get home. You should’ve called CPS. If you were going to let her walk out with him, you should never have said anything.”

“You wanna call CPS? Call CPS. I don’t care. I’m not stopping you from protecting that kid. I’m protecting our _store_ from him.”

“That’s bullshit!” Ray yelled. “Frankie’s just a kid! He doesn’t deserve that! He’s stealing because he’s starving. We lose more product each week on truck from the drivers throwing the boxes around than we do from Frankie taking things. He’s _hungry!_ He’s just fucking _hungry,_ you asshole. The store isn’t going to go bankrupt over five dollars in fruit cups!”

“I just can’t even imagine…what she’s going to do to him when they get home,” Ellen whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks as she picked at the keys on the register. 

“So call CPS! Just fucking call Child Protective Services and give them her name. They’ll find her address and he’ll be out of there by morning. Jesus Christ.”

Unable to take any more of the hatred he felt radiating off his coworkers, Gerard made his way to the back of the store and locked himself in the back office he honestly had no right to be in. Only the store manager was to be in the managerial office, but Gerard wanted left alone. 

It wasn’t his fault Frank had gotten caught. He’d just intended to tell him to empty his pockets and go. Frank was the one who’d started crying and calling all the attention. Gerard hadn’t meant to get him in trouble. He really hadn’t. 

Hell, he might’ve even paid for the goods once he saw exactly what the kid was hiding. It had never been his intention to get his mother to smack him until his nose started bleeding on the Spend N Save floor. The poor kid acted like he didn’t even notice his bloody nose, too. Like it was second to his burning need to apologize.

Gerard buried his head in his hands and let out a heavy sigh. 

He didn’t mean to get the kid in trouble.

He honestly hadn’t meant to.

He was just doing his job…

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank laid in bed sobbing, his arms draped over his eyes to block out his overhead lights. His entire body hurt, no part of him spared from his mother’s anger. She’d even struck him between the legs when her blows to his face didn’t earn her enough sincere apologies from her son. She’d made him strip off all of his clothes save for his boxers before hitting him, not to make the beating sexual but rather to further degrade and dehumanize him. Even so, her words were what clung to him as he laid on his bedroom floor. 

How many times had she called him worthless this time? How many times did she tell him she wished he hadn’t been born or wished that his father had just taken him away too so she didn’t have to look at him?

Frank was sorry—he was sorry for everything. Sorry he was hungry, sorry he couldn’t act right… Sorry he’d driven away the only friend he’d had who would listen to him without judging or calling the cops. Because even though Frank wished she’d stop beating him and yelling, he loved his mother. She was sick. She was just sick and she didn’t need to go to jail. 

Slowly, Frank rolled over in bed and pulled his blankets around his bruised, aching body. She’d hit him with a belt and her fists and her feet, and he felt blood dripping from more than one wound. When he rolled over, he felt his back sticking to the sheets and knew it wasn’t from sweat. The thought just made him cry harder though he tried desperately not to make any noise. His mother said if she heard one sound from him, she’d come back and “finish the job.”

He didn’t know what was left to be done to him and didn’t want to find out. He already knew he wouldn’t be going to school tomorrow and found a little comfort in knowing he could lay in bed all morning to recover. 

And maybe, maybe, if he was lucky, Mikey might get worried and stop by and Frank could tell him how sorry he was that he’d lost his temper. He hadn’t meant to push Mikey away. Mikey was the only friend he had and he really couldn’t afford to lose him.


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4_

Mikey felt his heart sink when he noticed Frank wasn’t sitting on the floor by his locker doing homework like he was every morning. They hadn’t talked since the fight though it seemed they both had tried but never quite found the words. Mikey tried to apologize, but Frank just kept shaking his head and mumbling to himself before walking off. Then the next day Frank seemed to try to apologize, but when Mikey told him he didn’t need to, Frank must’ve taken it the wrong way because he’d walked off then too. Now he wasn’t even at school and Mikey didn’t know if it was because his mother had punished him or if he’d run away to avoid another conversation.

It was hard to focus on his schoolwork when all Mikey had on his mind was Frank. The thought that Frank’s mother had done something to hurt him so badly again that he couldn’t go to school worried him the most. She’d broken his wrist once and Frank hadn’t come to school for two full weeks. Mikey didn’t want that to happen again. Frank was his best friend—like another brother to him—and the thought that someone was hurting him, could possibly be hurting him right now, made Mikey sick to his stomach.

He watched the clock tic slowly throughout the day, and when it was finally time to leave, Mikey ran out without even bothering to put the right books in his book bag to do his homework later. He sprinted he entire way to Frank’s house, only slowing when he got to Frank’s block so he could scan for Mrs. Iero’s car. When he saw that it wasn’t parked out front, Mikey hurried to the front door and rang the bell. 

Mikey had to wait nearly ten minutes before the curtain over the window fluttered and then the door locks cracked. 

“What are you doing here?” Frank asked, not opening the door any more than a crack.

“You weren’t at school today,” Mikey said, opening the screen door and pushing his way into the house. Frank was quick to close and lock the door behind him, and then hurried into the kitchen where he returned to doing the dishes. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Frank whispered. “Mom wants the house clean before she gets home.”

Mikey stepped closer to him and tried scanning for bruises on Frank’s skin. One of his forearms was bruised, only visible since Frank had rolled up the baggy sleeves of his hoodie while he washed the dishes. He had purple and brown splotches on the apples of his cheeks where his mother had no doubt slapped him, and there was a cut on his bottom lip that he would occasionally lick and suck on to clear it of fresh blood. 

“Frank, I’m sorry about that stuff I said before.”

“It’s fine. Just forget about it.”

“I can’t just forget about it. You’re my best friend. I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

“I wasn’t _mad._ I don’t like hearing people talk bad about my mom is all… I know you don’t understand her, but I do. She hits me, but she doesn’t mean it. She doesn’t mean to.” Even Frank didn’t look convinced. His back dipped a little further as he leaned over the sink to clean the final plate and set it in the drying rack. 

“Are you okay?” Mikey asked, knowing the answer Frank would give him but wishing that today would be the day Frank finally caved and asked for help. 

“I’m fine,” Frank said, not raising his voice more than a mere mumble. 

“Do you want to go get some food with me?”

“No… I’ve gotta finish the house. Finish cleaning, I mean. I have to vacuum still…and the microwave’s still dirty.”

“Can I help?” Mikey asked, looking around for a rag he could use to wipe up the microwave.

“You don’t have to… No, Mikey—Don’t! You don’t _have_ to!” Frank whipped around and grabbed Mikey by the wrist when he went to open the microwave. 

“Frank, I _want_ to. I just wanna help out.” Mikey pulled his arm away and set to wiping at the inside of the microwave after wetting the cloth in the sink. “So…what happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Frank mumbled.

“What set her off?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it!” Frank cried, scrubbing at the dish in his hands a little harder.

“Okay,” Mikey said, helping Frank clean in silence. As soon as the dishes were done, Frank washed down the sink and even dried the handles to prevent water spots from forming on the stainless steel. After Mikey finished cleaning the microwave, Frank got a fresh rag and rewashed it just to make sure that any spot Mikey might’ve missed was covered. 

Mikey tried talking to him, but Frank didn’t give any more than one word answers as he cleaned up his mother’s house—dusting, vacuuming, sweeping, mopping even. Mikey grew tired just watching him yet Frank never seemed to tire. His face had a look of sad determination as he tried to get rid of every little spatter, scuff, and stain in his home. By the time he gave up and sank to the floor, it was four-thirty.

“You really didn’t have to stay, Mikey,” Frank whispered, lying on the living room carpet as if he saw himself unworthy to sit on the couch or chairs.

“I was worried about you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re my best friend,” Mikey said, coming to sit down next to Frank on the floor.

“Why?” Frank asked, sounding baffled as if the answer were really unimaginable to him. 

“’Cause you’re funny…and cool. I don’t know. I just like you,” Mikey said, shrugging. 

“Mom… She hits a lot, you know? But… That’s not what bothers me. It’s the things she says sometimes. They’re just _really awful,_ ” Frank said, staring off into the distance. His eyes were fixed on the wall, but he saw straight through it—seeing everything and nothing all at once. 

“What did she say?” Mikey asked, gently coaxing Frank into opening back up like he used to when they’d first become friends back in middle school. 

“She said she wishes I was never born. She says it a lot, you know, but…yesterday she _meant_ it. She really _does_ hate me.”

“She’s just sick,” Mikey whispered. “She doesn’t mean it. You know she’s not well.”

“I wish Dad had taken me so she wouldn’t…” Frank paused for a long time. “Wouldn’t have to deal with me.” 

“Where is your dad?” 

“I don’t know,” Frank said, his voice cracking a little as he started to cry. “One day he was here, then the next he’d just packed up and gone… He didn’t even say goodbye.”

Mikey hummed and scooted a little closer to Frank, reaching out to touch his shoulder. He didn’t know why he expected the touch to change anything, but Frank sighed softly regardless as if comforted. It made sense, Mikey assumed. After being struck countless times, a touch that didn’t hurt was probably more than welcomed.

“You sure you don’t want to run by my place for some food before she gets home?”

“I can’t,” Frank whispered, curling inward as Mikey reminded him of his hunger. “If she gets home and I’m not here… She’ll give me dinner tonight. She _always_ does after…things like last night. And once she sees how clean the house is she won’t have anything to be upset about.” Frank closed his eyes as if to hold in the thought and Mikey just remained sitting with his hand on Frank’s shoulder until it became apparent that he’d fallen asleep.

Not wanting to get caught by Mrs. Iero when she came home, Mikey stood up and grabbed his backpack off the floor before slipping out the front door and locking it, hoping Frank would wake up soon and remember to lock the deadbolt before his mother got home.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank had woken with just moment to spare to relock the deadbolt and make him look busy before his mother was unlocking the door and stepping inside. Before even speaking to him she scanned the living room and dining room looking for anything out of place. When she found nothing, she approached Frank where he worked in the kitchen, scrubbing the stovetop a second time.

She watched him until he started trembling under her gaze, anticipating a blow to the head or a cold command to go up to his room. 

“Good boy,” his mother said, her hand going to the back of his head where she fluffed his hair as if he were a dog. Frank didn’t care if the touch was meant to dehumanize him. His mother had given him praise—she _touched_ him in a way that didn’t hurt. 

Frank turned to look at her, unable to help it when his eyes became wide and his jaw went slack. It was so seldom his mother gave him any affection at all. One touch was all he needed to forgive her for the blows and being told that he was _good,_ almost implying that she were proud of him, made him forgive her for every mean thing she’d ever said.

“Did you get the microwave?” She asked, stepping away from him as quickly as she had approached and opened the door on the small appliance.

“Yes, Momma.”

“Wow. You did a really good job. Good boy, Frankie.”

Frank’s heart could’ve stopped in his chest.

After shutting the door on the microwave, his mother opened her arms as if to offer him an embrace. Frank hesitated only a moment before closing the distance between them and carefully wrapping his arms around her back and pressing his head against her shoulder. Every second he expected her to slap him upside the head or whisper something cold, but she merely held him close, one hand on his back and the other stroking his hair.

“Frankie?”

“Yes, Momma?” Frank asked, shaking as he dared to hug her a little tighter. 

“Do you want to tell me…who was in my house today?”

Frank stiffened and he knew immediately that there was no use in lying. She would know. She would know and she would punish him for lying.

“Mikey came over after school,” Frank whispered. 

“And?”

“He brought me my homework,” Frank held his mother tighter, desperate that she not let go of him. Through the whole exchange she kept working her fingers through his hair as if combing it.

“That’s all?”

“Yes, Momma.”

“You know if I find out you’re lying to me, Frankie, I’ll have to correct that behavior.”

“I’m not lying, Momma. I swear. He was only here for a little while and just to drop off my homework. I told him I was sick and that’s why I didn’t go to school.”

“Did he believe you, Frankie?”

“Yes, Momma.” A tear rolled down Frank’s cheek and he pressed himself even closer to his mother, pleading for the right to keep her affection after she stopped stroking his hair.

“Frank, do you know what would happen if someone were to…complain about us?” 

“No,” Frank whispered, sighing a little when his mother started petting his hair again. It was so rare his mother ever touched him except to cause pain, and even though Frank knew this was where her contact would lead he couldn’t bring himself to try pulling away. 

“They would come take you away from me. Put you in…foster care maybe where the men would do _unspeakable,_ godless things to you. _Corrupt_ you. _Ruin you._ And no one would care. If you think I’m… _abusive—_ ”

“I don’t think that, Momma! I’ve never thought that,” Frank said, nuzzling his mother’s shoulder—wiping his tears on her sleeve—as if to prove his earnestness. 

“—well, I can tell you that what those men will do with you will make you grateful that I only corrected your behavior with slaps.”

“You’re not mean, Momma,” Frank whispered. “I love you. You’re a good mom. _Really._ ”

“No one thinks that when they see what you make me do to you in public. I cannot believe how disrespectful you were to me yesterday.” Though she had turned to scolding him, she still held him close and still smoothed her hand over his hair. “Frankie, if you ever steal from another store, I promise you I’ll have no choice but to correct your behavior in the most severe way that I can. And then the police will come and they’ll take you away from me and give you to those godless men who will only hurt you worse. Do you know what those men do…to sweet boys? Boys like you, Frankie?”

“No, Momma,” Frank whispered, even though he knew exactly what his mother was implying. He was too fearful to admit, however, that he knew anything of _sin._

“Well,” she suddenly fisted her hand in Frank’s hair until he let her go, and then dropped her hold and stepped away. “Maybe that’s a good thing. It’ll give you something to…look forward to the next time you think to disrespect me.”

“I didn’t mean to, Momma. I…” Frank shut his mouth quickly, knowing if he said he did it because he was hungry would make it so his mother disallowed him to eat dinner tonight. “I really wish you could forgive me.”

“Well, we all want things we can’t have. Now, I’m going to change clothes then you’re going to help me make dinner. Any complaints and you can go without food for the rest of the week.”

“I won’t complain, Momma. Just tell me what to do. Tell me how I can help.” Frank tried to smile at her, but his mother shook her head brusquely and pursed her lips in disapproval. Frank’s spirits sank and he bowed his head. “I’m sorry, Momma.”

“That’s my good boy,” she said, almost as if to herself, and walked upstairs to change.


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter 5_

They sat together in the park again, eating fruit cups and potato chips. Mikey was practically half asleep, claiming he’d been up all night playing video games with his older brother. Frank was awake, but only because he was in pain. His mother had whipped him that morning after finding the trash he had hidden in his bedroom from all the groceries he’d stolen from the various stores over the years. She hit him over and over with the belt until a few pin pricks of blood seeped through his boxers. Only then was she satisfied that he had learned his lesson and let him pull his jeans back up.

Sitting in the hard chairs at school all day had been unbearable, and the harsh pangs of hunger that struck him just made it all so much worse. Frank was so grateful for Mikey who was willing to buy him food and offer companionship free of charge. 

“I hate Mr. Burkey,” Mikey said.

“Oh yeah?” Frank asked, hunkering down for another long story about Mr. Burkey the tenth-grade science teacher who seemed to make it his personal mission to put Mikey in a bad mood every day. 

“Today in class I was trying to take notes, but I got bored so I started sketching instead. Then he sees that and tells me I should pay attention—which I should. I know I should.” He went on and on about Mr. Burkey making him balance equations on the board. Mikey hated going to the front of the class. It gave him really bad anxiety. Most teachers understood that. Mr. Burkey exploited it claiming he wanted to get Mikey adjusted to being in front of crowds. All it did was make Mikey angry. 

“Yeah, that sucks, man,” Frank said, looking down at his empty fruit cup. 

Mikey handed him another and Frank was quick to drink up all the juice before tipping the cup and spilling the small cubes of mixed peaches and pineapple into his mouth.

“Here, you can have these too,” Mikey said, sliding the bag of chips across the grass to Frank before lying back with his arms folded behind his head and closing his eyes. By the time Frank finished up the last of the fruit cups and chips, Mikey appeared to have fallen asleep. 

Frank sighed and looked at him as he slept, feeling a little more lonely with Mikey asleep beside him instead of awake. He would never go so far as to wake him up to counter that lonely feeling, though. 

Already lying on his side, Frank scooted a little closer to Mikey and moved to lie on his back as well, but with his knees bent to keep his thighs off the ground. It was embarrassing to be sixteen and still get _spanked_ of all things by his mother. He would’ve preferred that she hit his back or just slapped his face again and again to get her point across. Anything to spare him the humiliation of telling Mikey why he couldn’t sit still. 

Mikey didn’t judge him, though. He may have hated the way Frank’s mother treated him, but he never judged Frank for not telling. Mikey was an all-around good person and Frank was so thankful to have him. He doubted he would’ve made it this far in life without Mikey there to support him. There had been more than one time that Frank had pulled Mikey aside at the end of the school day to tell him he was afraid to be alone because he was considering giving his mother the gift she’d always wanted—his death. 

A boy could only take so much, and the mixture of internal and external agony to which Frank was constantly subjected pushed him to the breaking point at least thrice a year. Some days Frank was angry that Mikey could talk him down. All he wanted was to please his mother, and deep down he knew the only way to please her was to end his life—the life she’d never wanted mixed up in hers. But then, other days, Frank was happy to still be breathing. 

Days like this where he could lie in the grass—in pain but not in agony—beside his best friend, Frank was happy. As happy as he could be.

Frank lolled his head to the side in order to look at Mikey’s face, not realizing until it had gone on too long that he was staring. He’d taken in every angle of Mikey’s face, every spike and tuft in his hair, every mark in his skin… He wasn’t perfect, but he was far more than just ordinary to Frank. 

Without thinking, Frank scooted closer on the grass, wanting to be nearer to the only friend he had. The other people at school as seemed to get the same sense of Frank that his mother had—that he was a lesser being unworthy of even base, humane treatment. He’d been beaten up in gym class, stuffed into lockers, had his face pushed into a toilet bowl… All kinds of horrible things. But Mikey was always there to help dust Frank off (or dry his hair with the crunchy, brown bathroom paper towels) and Frank was so, so grateful for that. 

He would be lost without Mikey.

Frank slowly leaned a little closer and pressed a gentle kiss to Mikey’s cheek, not thinking at all about what it meant or would mean to either of them. Mikey was the only person in his life to show him affection, and Frank knew no other way to pay him back. Even if Mikey wasn’t awake to acknowledge it… Probably better that Mikey wasn’t awake to acknowledge it. Frank doubted Mikey would appreciate having his best friend kissing him on the cheek in public. 

The thought made him sad in some ways too. Every once in a while Mikey would give him a hug or rub his shoulder or back. Mikey’s was the only gentle touch Frank knew and he wanted more. It was greedy and disturbed, but Frank was desperate. Sometimes his mother would let him hug her or kiss her cheek, but most often she deflected all of his attempts at affection. Frank wished that Mikey would let him get closer, but knew it would spell nothing but trouble. 

Mikey had a crush on a girl in his English class. Frank couldn’t ever dream to compete with that…

But out here where they were alone and Mikey was asleep, Frank had just enough confidence to scoot even closer on the grass and lie with his body pressed against his friend’s. It was amazing to him how just a small bit of contact could soothe him so much. With the skin of his arm pressed snug against Mikey’s, Frank no longer even felt the pain in his thighs. He was comforted enough to sleep as well.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank had never been the popular kid in school. He’d never even dreamed of having the chance. His clothes weren’t name brand, they only fit well for a week or so after they were purchased before his mother lost her temper and his weight started to fluctuate. Sometimes his mother refused to let him shower and Frank knew he smelled bad even though he tried to cover it up with deodorant and even the scent of hairspray due to lack of cologne. He wasn’t athletic, and he was terrible in gym class because he was either too exhausted and hungry to play well or his poor hand-eye coordination threw him off when he did have a meal. The jocks hated him, he didn’t fit in with the art kids or band kids… Even the nerds who had their own clique in the high school didn’t associate with him even though they were all friends with Mikey. 

Frank was the odd one out, never good enough for anybody, never worthy of even dreaming that one day he might catch someone’s eye. So when he was preparing to leave school and found a folded up note stuffed into the vent of his locker, Frank was surprised to find that it was a love letter—or the closest thing Frank had ever received to one.

He’d expected it to be hate mail, something awful calling him a freak and telling him the same terrible things his mother did—that he should just die or disappear and never return. But it wasn’t. It was handwritten and signed too.

Signed by a boy Frank recognized from his AP English class. Frank couldn’t imagine even in his wildest of dreams that a boy like Kyle Brenner would ever want to meet him in private.

_Frank,_ the letter read. _I noticed lately that you seem kind of down. I know something isn’t right with your home life since I see the bruises you have sometimes and they don’t come from school. I thought you and I could talk today after school. I want to make sure you are alright. I know we don’t talk or anything, but I really like you. If you’re not busy or anything, can we meet by the baseball field? I know it’s out of the way, but the football players will be having practice so I don’t want to meet at the bleachers cuz they might make fun of us. Hope to see you there. If not, that’s okay. Kyle Brenner._

Frank couldn’t believe it. He scanned every line again and again seeking any signs that might hint it was a fabrication. He didn’t know Kyle enough to be able to recognize his handwriting, but when Frank thought out the words in his head, he could hear them as if they had come from Kyle. The speech pattern was the same. (It was so rare that Kyle Brenner, the son of a member of city council, ever started a sentence without “I” as the first word that it was practically a cliché in their AP English class.)

“Hey, you ready to go? We can stop by the Spend N Save and get some fruit cups if you’re hungry.” Mikey closed his locker and looked over at Frank. “What’s that?”

“Um… It’s nothing—No. I-I have to meet someone. A-A teacher, I have to meet a teacher so… Um, I won’t be walking home with you,” Frank said, trying to devise a lie on the spot and failing dismally. The letter had excited him and worried him so much that his usual creativity had fled him, and all that was left in its wake was giddy anxiety. Someone wanted to meet him? Someone _other_ than Mikey? Someone else _cared_ about him enough to write him a letter? Frank could hardly believe it.

“What are you talking about?”

“No, it’s just… You know, the bruises and stuff. A teacher wants me to talk to her.”

“Okay. I’ll wait for you here then,” Mikey said, shrugging.

“No—Please. I don’t want to be any trouble. I don’t know how long it’ll take and if you’re waiting I’ll just get more nervous,” Frank said, flashing a smile even though he knew it looked as forced as it felt. 

“Are you sure?” Mikey asked, concern showing in his face. 

“Yeah. It’ll be fine.”

“Okay… Do you want me to stop by your house later?”

“No,” Frank said, a little too forcefully. “No… Sorry, Mom’s been getting home at strange hours lately and you know she’ll lose it if she sees you.”

“Alright. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Mikey said, looking a little disappointed as he swung his backpack onto his shoulder and walked away down the hall. He looked back at Frank one last time before leaving the building and Frank waved to him. But once he was gone, Frank grabbed his backpack and hurried for the back door of the school building. 

Maybe it was a trap, but he would never know if he hid from everything. If he could make friends with Kyle, maybe he could open up his circle even more and his life wouldn’t feel so empty and lonely. The worst that would happen, Frank believed, would be that Kyle wasn’t there and it was a trap set by the jocks who would tease him and beat him up. It wasn’t something Frank was unused to, so he was willing to take the risk. 

He honestly felt that he had nothing to lose.


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter 6_

Mikey knew for a fact Frank was lying to him, and he knew Frank was aware of it as well. Whatever Frank was doing at the school had something to do with the letter he’d found in his locker, and Mikey wasn’t going to leave his friend behind to get pulled into some kind of a trap.

He’d gotten notes before supposedly from girls who wanted to talk to him—and of course when he’d gone to speak to said girls they had laughed in his face and made a joke of him. Mikey couldn’t let that happen to Frank, but he knew if he tried to warn Frank beforehand it would just piss the younger teen off. 

Mikey didn’t actually have much of a game plan other than follow Frank and intervene when things started to look bad. If he saw Frank talking to a girl he would butt in for sure, though.

So he made a show of leaving the school building but merely hid around the corner and watched as Frank turned and headed for the back doors. Not concerned with the other students watching him, Mikey chased after Frank, making sure to keep his footfalls as quiet as he could so as to not draw attention, and then stayed back a few paces until he saw Frank bolt outside as fast as he could with sore ribs from his latest beating. 

Mikey watched as Frank hurried across the schoolyard toward the far side of the campus where the baseball and soccer fields were, and only after Frank had merely become a white speck in the distance did Mikey step outside and follow him further. He didn’t want to risk Frank turning and seeing him, not wanting his best friend to stop talking to him again over something so petty.

All he ever wanted was to keep his friend safe. He pitied Frank and he loved him like a brother—almost as much as he loved Gerard. He would do anything in his power to keep Frank safe and it maddened him that Frank was so against the idea of getting help or accepting help from anyone for anything. He protected his abusers and shunned his friends. It was all very frustrating, but Mikey understood.

If his mother did something awful to him, Mikey wasn’t sure he would want to tell the cops either. He depended on his mother for everything. He loved her—even if it was just out of instinct and necessity. He loved his mom, and he couldn’t be mad at Frank for feeling the same thing toward his even though she was “sick”—even if she was absolutely batshit crazy.

When Mikey finally caught sight of Frank again, he was standing in the dugout of the baseball field, under the narrow, wooden roof. There was another guy with him, but Mikey didn’t draw close enough to see who it was. He kept himself hidden behind a tree, poking his head out just enough so he could see if something started to go wrong. If Frank started to get beat up, Mikey wouldn’t be much use to him in the fight, but he would do his best to protect his friend and prove once and for all that no matter what, he had Frank’s back. 

Minutes went by and the two remained standing there talking to one another. The only action occurred when they both sat down on the wooden bench, facing each other. After a minute more, Frank moved to sit cross legged on the seat, his whole body turned toward that other guy. Mikey wished he could get closer to make out who it was, but there weren’t any trees or even bushes for him to hide behind. 

Then it happened and Mikey felt his jaw drop and his eyes go wide. 

That other guy put his hand on Frank’s shoulder and then kissed him—leaned down and _kissed him!_

Mikey expected Frank to pull back, to be disgusted and try to get away, but instead Frank leaned forward and put his hand on the other boy’s shoulder as well. Mikey stared in stunned silence and then drew himself completely back behind the tree, turning his face away from them and shaking his head. 

He couldn’t make sense of it! He’d known Frank for years and the boy _never_ let on that he was _gay_ or even interested in boys at all! Mikey wasn’t _repulsed_ by it, but it was all so unexpected. There were so many questions in his head now. Did Frank even know this guy? Were they friends? Because Frank had never mentioned having any other friends… Were they _dating?_ And if they were, how come Frank never thought to bring it up? 

Mikey had told him many times that he had an older brother who was gay. Frank had to know that Mikey wouldn’t reject him or stop being his friend. Even if Frank got a crush on him, Mikey didn’t think he would be mad so long as Frank accepted that it wasn’t ever going to happen. 

Before he ran back to the school, Mikey chanced another look around the trunk of the tree and immediately regretted his decision. The boy now had his hand up Frank’s shirt while they continued to suck face—and by the looks of it, though Mikey hadn’t strained to see, Frank had his hand pressed between that other boy’s legs. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank couldn’t believe it. He didn’t understand, but he wasn’t going to question it. Kyle Brenner, someone Frank had never really paid any notice to before, was kissing him. His first kiss. As soon as their lips met, Frank’s already pounding heart felt like it was about to rip free of his chest and go soaring through the sky. It took everything he had in him not to burst out crying from the sheer pleasure of it.

To know he was liked by someone, _admired_ by someone he’d never really spoken to renewed Frank’s faith in life. It felt like God was finally smiling upon him after having turned a blind eye to his suffering for so long. 

That being said, it was still an unwelcome jolt when he felt Kyle grab his wrist and move his hand forward to press against his jeans. Frank tried to pull back, but Kyle shushed him and started kissing his neck. Wave after wave of pleasure coursed through Frank’s nerves, the hairs on his arms standing on end as his body became so incredibly tense while also feeling so relaxed on the inside. 

It was moving fast, but Frank didn’t care. Kyle kept moaning in his ear and Frank finally worked up the courage to let his hand be pressed snugly between the older boy’s legs. He’d never anyone like this before—anyone other than himself at least—and he was nervous, but whenever the fear really gripped him Kyle would do something to send more shivers and sparks down Frank’s spine.

Even that wasn’t enough to keep his face from turning a bright shade of red when Kyle reached between them and undid the fly of his own jeans. Frank stared, tongue tied, as Kyle exposed his length and stroked it a few times with his hand before grabbing Frank’s and coaxing him to wrap his hand around it. Whenever Frank would get nervous and try to pull away, Kyle would grab his shoulders and start kissing him again, pressing his tongue into Frank’s mouth even though Frank had no idea how to kiss back. 

Then it happened…

Kyle put his hand on the back of Frank’s neck and started trying to push his head down. Frank resisted him, but Kyle would just laugh—not a mean laugh, but a playful giggle—and push a little harder until Frank told him a quick, forceful “no.”

“Why? It’s okay. I just… I really like you, Frank. If you do it for me, I’ll do it for you. Would you like that?” Kyle offered him a lopsided smile and took the hand that had been pressing on Frank’s neck and moved it to stroke Frank’s cheek, his thumb tracing Frank’s bottom lip. 

“I don’t know,” Frank stammered, looking around at the ball field and what was beyond it. He didn’t see anyone watching. Kyle seemed nice and when they’d been talking all he said was how much he wanted to spend time with Frank outside of school. Maybe if he did this, maybe they’d start dating. Frank wouldn’t have to spend all his time with Mikey who had to be getting tired of him. He could lean a little on someone else and not wear his best friend out. 

“I promise, it’ll be fun. Okay? I just really want you. You’re so sexy, Frank.” Kyle started kissing him again, and this time when he pushed Frank’s head down, Frank willingly caved. 

He felt his cheeks burning as he sucked the length into his mouth, not quite sure what to do or how to do it. He hoped beyond anything that Kyle wouldn’t push him away if he was bad and then tell everyone about it… God, he _prayed_ Kyle wouldn’t tell anyone about this.

“That’s it,” Kyle moaned when Frank fit more into his mouth and started bobbing his head. “Just like that.” He kept his hand on the back on Frank’s head, guiding it up and down and then pushing a little harder down to get Frank to take more until Frank gagged around him, tears coming to his eyes.

After that he had to pull off for air. He expected Kyle to get mad or push him back down, but instead the other boy pulled him in for another kiss—even adding tongue despite where Frank’s mouth had just been—and only after that did he push Frank’s head back down. 

Frank did his best to keep moving his head and tried not to gag when Kyle pushed a little too hard. Every now and then Kyle would tell him something he could do to make it feel better for him and Frank would listen, hoping to do well so Kyle wouldn’t get offended and storm off—and tell everyone.

Oh _God,_ Frank _prayed_ Kyle didn’t tell _anyone!_

When Kyle started moaning deep in his throat, Frank knew when came next and cringed as the other boy pushed him down harder. Seconds later, he felt the hot, bitter fluid fill his mouth and when he tried to pull away to spit it out, Kyle kept his head pinned giving Frank no choice but to swallow around the length still shoved between his lips. 

Even then, when Frank tried to pull off, Kyle held him there a moment, shifting around in his seat before letting Frank come up to breathe and spit a few times into the dirt to get the taste off.

“That was fuckin’ awesome,” Kyle said, smiling at Frank. But there was almost a sort of malice in his eyes that Frank hadn’t seen before.

Frank said nothing and fidgeted in his seat on the uncomfortable wooden bench. Kyle didn’t move to kiss him again, but he did reach out and tuck some of Frank’s messy hair behind his ear, giving Frank enough confidence to ask the question burning in the back of his brain.

“S-So… Um. Are you gonna…you know, f-for me?” Frank stammered, looking from Kyle to the scratches in the wooden bench. He was embarrassed and nervous, but excited too. No one had ever wanted to be around him long enough to even be his friend let alone offer him pleasure of any kind. 

“Yeah,” Kyle said, kissing Frank’s cheek. “Yeah, definitely. But I can’t today. I gotta head to work right now…over at the movie theater. But if you come here tomorrow after school again,” he kissed Frank’s cheek when he saw how much Frank was frowning, “I’ll really blow your fuckin’ mind.”

“Yeah?” Frank asked, looking up hopefully.

“Yeah,” Kyle said, stroking Frank’s cheek and pulling him in for a final kiss. 

“Um, be-before you go… You’re not gonna tell anyone, right?”

“Tell anyone?” Kyle asked, smiling like he didn’t understand. 

“You know, that…that we did this. I just, I’m not embarrassed to be talking to you, but they already pick on me enough. I’d hate to give them more to make fun of about me.”

“Frankie, there’s nothing for you to worry about,” Kyle said, smiling and standing up from the bench. Frank stood as well while Kyle re-buttoned his jeans and looked around again. He saw someone walking up the field back toward the school, but they were at a far enough distance not to have been able to see. 

Kyle walked with Frank back to the school building and only stroked his cheek again in parting since there would be too many people around to see them if they were to kiss. Once they parted ways, Frank practically sprinted back to his house—unable to keep from smiling like an idiot as his heart struggled to beat under the weight of all his happiness. 

Someone _noticed_ him! Someone _liked_ him! Frank couldn’t believe it! He just couldn’t fucking believe it!


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter 7_

As soon as he got home, Frank had set to cleaning everything, even going so far as to clean up the deepest recesses of his bedroom so his mother would have nothing to complain about when she returned home from work. He was happy for the first time in ages and Frank wasn’t willing to let that joyous feeling slip out of his fingertips. 

Someone noticed him. Someone liked him… Someone was _attracted_ to him in _that way_ even though his mother swore to him up and down that he was ugly and disgusting and no person in their right mind would ever want him. 

Before the kiss, Kyle had said all kinds of things about what he saw attractive in Frank—his hair, his clothes (his ill-fitting clothes were _attractive_ to Kyle!), his complexion. Frank could hardly believe it. Every part of his body was teeming with excitement and he tried doing everything he could think of to work out the feeling before his mother got home and asked him what the hell he had to be smiling about. If she thought him too happy, she would gladly knock him down a few notches to keep him in his place as though his joy was a cause for envy.

Frank put on his headphones—headphones he’d managed to steal from Wal-Mart the last time they went when his mother hadn’t been looking—and listened to music for a while, making sure the volume wasn’t too loud so he could hear if his mother’s car pulled up. When even that didn’t help mellow his spirits (and actually worked against him, making him even more excited), Frank tried expressing his delight in more…physical means in the hour before his mother would get home.

That at least made him tired, but he was still giddy at the thought of what might happen to him tomorrow. God, he hoped Kyle would still be able to meet up. He may not have ever noticed the boy before, but he certainly wanted to see more of him now. Frank hardly felt like he could breathe without him nearby.

As he sat on the couch waiting for his mom to get home, Frank ran over in his mind every encounter he and Kyle had ever had. They’d peer reviewed each other’s papers in class, and the year before they sat at the same long table for Earth Science class. Maybe they’d checked each other’s quizzes in that class, but Frank couldn’t recall. He wondered how long Kyle had been having those feelings for him.

It must’ve been a while if he wanted to take it all the way the very first time they over spoke.

Frank hoped Kyle didn’t think him easy for going along with it…

That thought was enough to get Frank’s face to lose its seemingly permanent grin.

He really hoped Kyle wouldn’t change his mind about wanting them to be friends—or boyfriends—because of that. Frank had just been so excited and honored… He never thought anyone _ever_ would see him that way and he didn’t want to let the opportunity pass him by because he was nervous or afraid, or a little uncertain about whether he really wanted to be doing this with another guy.

But Frank decided, boy or girl, it didn’t really matter to him who he was with so long as the person actually cared about him. And Kyle seemed to care about him. If he didn’t why would he have kissed him on the mouth after where it had been? Why would he have stroked Frank’s cheek or told him that he looked nice?

Frank was sure an opportunity like this would never present itself to him again, and he hoped beyond hope that he hadn’t done anything to push Kyle away already.

( ) ( ) ( )

The next morning, Mikey found Frank sitting on the floor in front of his locker like he did ever morning, though instead of looking depressed or tired, his friend was smiling to himself and jotting down sketches instead of completing homework at the last minute.

“Hey… How’s it going?” Mikey asked, trying not to sound as suspicious as he felt.

“Good,” Frank said, smiling and looking up from his notebook. 

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Frank said, grinning even more.

“Any particular…you know, reason for that?” Mikey pressed. He doubted Frank would confess to kissing some guy in the dugout of the baseball field, but he might admit to something.

“No,” Frank said, shrugging and starting to laugh. “I mean… You’re my friend, you can keep a secret, right?” His happy-go-lucky demeanor told Mikey that Frank already knew the answer to that, and even if the answer was no, Frank still would’ve spilled his guts. He was just that excited.

Mikey hadn’t ever seen him so excited before. It upset him that he couldn’t just feel happy for Frank. He just had this nagging sense of worry and didn’t know what to do about it. Maybe Frank had seen that other guy sometime before, but Mikey doubted it. Frank would’ve told him. This was a new thing, and in Mikey’s experience, new things were often dangerous.

“Of course. What’s up?” Mikey asked.

“So there’s this guy, right? Kyle Brenner—”

“ _Kyle Brenner?_ ” Mikey asked, eyes going involuntarily wide. Frank had been out there kissing _Kyle Brenner?_ The councilman’s son? The boy who kept showing off dirty pictures of his college girlfriend from the summertime? _That_ Kyle Brenner?

“Yeah. Do you…you know him?” Frank asked, starting to look worried.

“Yeah! Yeah, I know him!” Mikey said. 

“I don’t understand—what are you freaking out about? I haven’t even told you anything yet.”

“Because he’s a creep, Frank, and I know _exactly_ what you’re gonna say.”

“How’s he a creep?” Frank asked, starting to get the same defensive look he got whenever Mikey challenged his devotion to his mother. It hurt to see Frank already trying so hard to defend someone he didn’t even know, not trusting Mikey—his best friend!—to give his honest opinion.

“Frank, I had gym class with him. He spent the first two months of school showing pictures of his ex-girlfriend to everybody in the locker room.”

“So? He liked her—he was showing her off.” Frank didn’t even look bothered by the fact that Kyle had an ex- _girlfriend._

“They were naked pictures, Frank,” Mikey said, leaning forward so the kids around them in the hall wouldn’t hear. 

“Well he didn’t take pictures of me,” Frank mumbled.

“What? You got _naked_ for him?” 

“No! I’m not _that_ easy.”

“ _That_ easy? What the hell did you do with this guy?”

“Nothing,” Frank said, his eyes turning dark like his mother’s. “Forget I said anything. I thought you’d be happy for me.”

Frank tried to walk away, but Mikey grabbed his arm hard and pulled him back.

“Frank, trust me. I’m your best friend. If I didn’t think he was creepy I wouldn’t have said anything. I want you to find somebody and be happy, too. But not him. _Anyone_ but him. He’s just gonna hurt you.”

“No he’s not,” Frank said, pulling his arm away. “He wants to meet up again after school. He _actually_ wants to hang out with me. Do you know what that feels like?”

“Frank—”

“You have other friends. I don’t. This is a big deal for me.”

“I know, I know. You can do what you want, but please just promise me you’ll be careful. You’re my best friend. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I won’t get hurt,” Frank mumbled, looking as unconvinced as Mikey. “Momma’s made me tough. There’s not much he can do to me that she hasn’t done already.”

Mikey bit his tongue to keep from saying what was in his mind. There were a lot of things Kyle could do to him that his mother couldn’t — _wouldn’t_ do. Mikey just hoped Frank didn’t learn that the hard way.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank felt it like a knife, cutting through his happiness and excitement, even through the anger Mikey had instilled in him that morning, when he heard the other boys in his first classroom laugh as soon as he walked through the door. At first he thought he was being self-conscious, but after more groups of people in the classroom waited until he made eye contact with them to start laughing, he knew they were all thinking of him.

He heard a girl toward the front of the room ask the guy beside her what was so funny. Frank watched them out of the corner of his eye, keeping his head down so no one could see him looking at her—one of the popular kids, one of the people he had no right to look at. The girl leaned over as the boy took out his cell phone. He showed her something and she gasped and drew back before letting out a shrill, nasal cry.

“Oh my _God!_ Why would you show me that—ew!”

As soon as she gave out her cry, all the boys in the room started laughing together in once boisterous group save for a couple of band kids seated toward the back who were immersed in their own conversation. 

“Mary, what was it?” The girl sitting behind the popular chick asked. “Mary! What _was_ it?”

The first girl, Mary, turned around in her seat and sent a piercing glance to Frank at the back of the room. Then she turned her eyes to the girl and started whispering—then both of them looked his way and the girl started laughing too. 

“Oh my God. Really?” The second girl asked.

“Yeah,” Mary said, turning back around in her seat. 

“Zach—hey! Zach, let me see. I wanan see it.” Then the second girl was leaning forward in her seat to see whatever it was on the boy’s cell phone screen. She too gave out an indignant cry and started laughing, looking from the phone over her shoulder at Frank and then back to the boy and laughing.

Frank had never felt so mortified in his entire life. His stomach immediately started twisting in knots and he had no doubts in his mind as to what they were all looking at. Someone had seen him and Kyle—maybe that person Frank had seen walking away across the field—and that person had taken a photo… And now the photo was circulating just like Mikey said it would.

Before lunchtime it would probably be on the phones of every person at his school if it wasn’t already. 

Frank took in a shaking breath and moved as if to stand from his desk. He didn’t know where he would go, but he couldn’t stay here. He couldn’t sit through a class knowing full well that as soon as he walked into the next one, all eyes would be on him again and everyone would start laughing.

“Hey. Psst. Iero.”

Frank tried to ignore the voice whispering to him from two seats to his right but the person went on and on, getting more people involved until Frank, knowing full well he had tears rimming his eyes, turned to look at him.

The boy who had been whispering at him started making a lewd gesture with his hand, simulating a blowjob as his tongue pressed on the inside of his cheek in time with the motions of his hand. The entire room, it seemed, erupted with laughter and Frank turned away, covering his face with his hands just as the teacher came in. 

Before even going to the front of the classroom, the teacher put his hand on Frank’s shoulder and leaned down to whisper in his ear that he needed to collect his things and go to the office.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank trembled as he sat in the counselor’s office. The principal and vice principal both were sitting across the desk from him as well as Karen the Kind Counselor—as the poster on the expressed. She didn’t look very kind, though. When Frank looked at her, he saw the same loathing in her eyes that his mother had whenever she looked at him. The principal and the VP both looked at him with thinly veiled disgust and Frank sat with his head in his hands, sobbing pathetically in his utter humiliation. 

How had he been so stupid as to believed _anyone_ liked him? That _anyone_ found him attractive or worthwhile at all? He was such a fucking idiot. A cheap, easy idiot who got _exactly_ what he deserved. He knew better than to go all the way with someone on the first date—so how the hell had he let himself go all the way on the first _encounter?_

It had been a trick. _Obviously_ it had been a trick. Frank just didn’t know how he could’ve been so _damned_ stupid.

“Now, Frank… We understand that you’re upset right now, but this is very serious. You need to calm down so you can answer some questions for us, alright?”

“Yeah,” Frank stammered. “Okay.” It was meant to come out as sarcastic—because _yeah,_ it would be real fucking easy to calm down and answer questions with the entire school laughing at pictures of him giving Kyle Brenner a blowjob. 

It would’ve been better if Kyle’s face had been in the frame, but apparently it wasn’t because the counselor kept asking him who the other boy was. He didn’t know why, but he refused to tell them. Maybe Kyle hadn’t been in on it… Maybe he was a victim too. Wouldn’t he be _happy_ with Frank if he protected him?

Frank wished Kyle wasn’t involved. He really, really wished it.

As the counselor and principal drilled him, no less than pleading to know who the other boy in the video — _video!_ — was, there was a sharp knock on the door and the office secretary announced that Frank’s mother had arrived.

Never before had Frank been so afraid of his mother as he was when he turned and saw the cold, icy look in her eyes. Her lip was curled in disgust, and she barely even breathed around him as though he gave off a smell that made her stomach churn. Even when the principal shook her hand and showed her to the seat next to Frank’s, her expression of enraged nausea remained. 

Frank knew that if he didn’t die of shame in the counselor’s office, he would surely die from the beating his mother would give him when they got home.

( ) ( ) ( )

Mikey looked around the lunch room for Frank, but didn’t see him anywhere. He asked to be excused from the cafeteria so he could check the bathroom, but even after checking all three of the regular bathrooms and even the one in the boy’s locker room, Frank was nowhere to be found. 

He felt resigned as he went back to the cafeteria and sat with his other group of friends since Frank was missing. It made him feel horrible, and guilty. Maybe what he’d said that morning had upset Frank so much that he ran away and found some obscure place to hide just to avoid seeing Mikey. It wouldn’t be the first time Mikey had hurt him that badly…

“Hey,” his friend Rick said, smirking at him as he sat down.

“What?” Mikey asked, too disturbed by the terribly humored look on his friend’s face to feel comfortable sitting down at the table. 

“Did you hear about Frankie?” He asked, laughing and looking around the table at a couple of the other members of the marching band. 

“No. What about Frank?” Mikey asked, narrowing his eyes a little. They knew Frank was his best friend. Where did they get off trying to make a joke of him?

“Dude, you gotta show him the video,” one of the other boys said.

“What video? What the fuck are you talking about?” Mikey snapped. 

“Come here and shut up,” Rick said, rolling his eyes as he took out his cell phone. He held it under the table and looked around to make sure none of the teachers monitoring the room were watching. 

What Mikey saw made him instantly feel sick. It was just as he’d feared. Kyle was up to his same old tricks and had managed to take shaky video of Frank giving him head. It was hard at first to even recognize it as Frank, but toward the end of the video he turned his head just enough that his profile was visible—had he opened his eyes, he would’ve seen the camera and none of this would’ve happened to him. 

“That’s disgusting,” Mikey spat, slapping the phone out of Rick’s hand and not caring when it smacked onto the floor.

“Hey!”

“Who sent you that?” Mikey asked, glaring and getting back up from his seat.

“I don’t know—three different people forwarded it to me. The teachers freaked the fuck out about it. They say anyone caught with it can face child porn charges. Can you believe that? Child porn! Because he’s underage.”

“Delete it,” Mikey said when Rick had his phone back in his hands.

“Why?” Rick asked.

“Because it’s disgusting! Delete it!” Mikey tried to get the phone out of Rick’s hands, but it was hard without making a scene and he didn’t want caught up in the whole mess too. 

“Oh, I get it!” One of the other boys at the table said.

“What?” Rick and Mikey snapped in unison.

“Mikey’s the other guy in the video!”

“No,” Mikey said, glaring intensely, hoping it showed how serious he was. But that determination just made him look more guilty and Mikey knew that before the day was out, his name would be circulating alongside Frank’s.

In all the times Mikey had seen Frank beaten, injured, tortured, and sad, he had never before let himself think the words going through his mind now—now that Frank had dragged him down too, even if unintentionally. How could Frank have been so _fucking_ stupid? Was he really that naïve that he didn’t see what was wrong with sucking off some random guy the first time they ever spoke to each other? Was he really _that_ dumb?

And what did he think his mother was going to do when she found out?—because the school _was_ going to call her.

It pissed Mikey off so fucking much because no matter how mad he was at Frank, no matter how badly he wanted to grab him and punch him in the face a few good times himself, he still felt _bad_ for Frank. If the video hadn’t taught him a lesson, his mother surely would.


	8. Chapter 8

_Chapter 8_

“Momma, I’m sorry,” Frank pleaded as he followed his mother into the house. She hadn’t said a word to him since they left the school. She didn’t even slap him once they were in the car or look at him. 

The whole time the principal spoke of how serious the situation was and how diligently they were working to stop the video from spreading, his mother had been silent. Only after they asked her if she was alright—maybe even a bit frightened by her stern, cold glare—did she speak. And though what she said was nothing new to Frank, it surely left a look of surprise on the faces of the Karen the Kind Counselor and the principal and VP. 

“I am _ashamed_ ,” she said, “That this _thing_ is my son. _Ashamed!_ I _know_ Frank is not smart, but I never in my wildest dreams imagined he was _this_ ignorant. This _stupid!_ ”

Her low opinion of him dropped more and more as the principal pleaded with her to remain calm. She insisted that she couldn’t be calm. She was too disgusted, too repulsed to have _given birth_ to such a shameful, pathetic sodomite to be calm.

The principal had asked her to step out into the hallway after that, wanting to speak to her in private where Frank knew she was being told that her conduct was inappropriate, that they understood she was angry but the things she was saying could be considered verbal abuse. She’d been given that speech before and took it out on Frank by not talking to him for two weeks.

Frank feared that his mother would never speak to him again after this. The silent treatment didn’t mean an absence of beatings, though. She didn’t have to speak to hit, and Frank wanted to think of something he could do to get his mother to forgive him—or just _look_ at him so she knew he was sorry. 

“Momma?” Frank whispered, following his mother upstairs even though he knew he wasn’t allowed in her bedroom. “Please, Mom! Please, I’m _sorry!_ ”

His mother slammed her bedroom door without a word and Frank hesitated only a moment before opening the door and slipping inside.

“Momma… Please talk to me. I’m sorry.” 

His mother stood with her back to him, breathing heavily as her anger mounted. It scared him, but he knew that if she started yelling her silent treatment would be over. She would lash out and then forget to keep her words in the next day. Even if she was mean, Frank was willing to take the brunt of her anger so he didn’t have to feel completely alone.

“They were mean to me, Mom. They…They were all laughing at me. I didn’t know he had a camera, Mom.”

“Filthy sodomite,” his mother muttered, more to herself than to Frank.

“Momma. _Please!_ ”

Then, as though unaware of his presence entirely, his mother stripped off her work blazer and went over to her closet to pick out a t-shirt to put on in place of her blouse. Frank watched her, pleading again and again for her to just _speak_ to him, but gave up and left when his mother began unbuttoning her blouse. 

He waited in the hallway until his mother had finished changing and had left her room, and then followed her down the stairs with barely a foot of space between them. He knew he was just agitating her, but he was desperate. He already felt alienated enough and didn’t need her to shut him out as well. It didn’t matter if the stories he told her about the kids laughing at him just gave her more ammunition to use against him later—he just wanted her acknowledgement. 

“Momma…”

No matter how many times he repeated it, she ignored him as she started making herself food for lunch. Desperate, Frank dared to get between his mother’s body and the counter on which she was working—forcing her to look him in the face.

“Move.”

“Mom, please just talk to me. _Please._ ”

“I have nothing to say to you, Frank. Now move.”

Frank held his ground, even after his mother slapped him. 

“I said _move!_ I’m sick of the sight of you!”

“I know, Momma, but please don’t—” Frank let out a loud cry when his mother fisted her hand in his hair and yanked it until he fell to his knees in an attempt to get away. Once he was down, she set one hard kick between his legs and then moved the plate she’d been preparing to a different end of the counter to avoid having to stand beside him. 

Frank stayed on the floor, clutching himself and whimpering as the pain shot up his spine. His mother ignored him except for to step on his hand and grind the heel of her shoe into the bones of his fingers on her way out of the kitchen as she muttered “filthy sodomite” again under her breath. 

Frank laid there until his mother came back into the kitchen, and then he only moved to avoid a kick directed at his face and to save his other hand from being stomped on. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Mikey wanted to stop by Frank’s house after school to make sure he was alright, but he saw that Mrs. Iero’s car was parked out front so he just kept walking. Part of why he’d wanted to stop by was to yell at him for being so stupid and let him know that now everyone at school though _he_ was the other guy in the video since Frank refused to say who it actually was. But when he saw that Frank’s mom was home, he felt a familiar sense of fear and panic for his best friend. If she was home, she would no doubt have beaten him by now…and if he was hurt Mikey wasn’t going to add insult to injury (literally) by berating him further. 

So Mikey just went home and locked himself in his room, not even caring to come down for dinner until after everyone else had finished. He made himself a plate of cold leftovers and took it up to his room to eat alone. Gerard tried to ask him what was wrong, but Mikey told him he didn’t want to talk about it repeatedly until his brother gave up and went away.

The next day, Frank wasn’t at school and everyone was still whispering about it, tacking on other rumors like Frank being seen giving blowjobs to band members behind the bleachers at football games and that he had AIDS and only had months left to live. Some people still asked Mikey if he was the guy from the video, but Mikey did his best to ignore them—even tacking on a detail he’d picked up on after seeing the video online the night before where it was still steadily circulating. The guy in the video—Kyle Brenner, although no one believed Mikey when he told them that—was wearing athletic pants. Mikey wouldn’t be caught dead in athletic pants. Most of the people who were told that agreed, and then asked if he’d known his best friend was a fag.

Mikey stopped by the Spend N Save after school to buy fruit cups and some other bits of food Frank could hide in his room at home and eat when he got hungry, and got to watch his brother take down a middle aged woman who tried stealing a cell phone charger. Gerard even waited for the lady to walk outside (and set off the anti-theft alarms) before chasing her down and forcing her to come back inside. When he did, the cashier at the counter called the police, but Mikey had checked out and left before he got to see the woman arrested. 

Frank didn’t answer when Mikey knocked on his door, so he settled for ringing the doorbell over and over until finally the door was unlocked and cracked open.

“What do you want?” Frank asked, hiding half of his face behind the door. 

“I brought you food,” Mikey said, brandishing the bag. 

“You don’t need to buy me food. Go home, Mikey.” Frank tried to close the door, but Mikey put his foot between the door and the frame and pushed his way inside. Immediately he saw what Frank was trying so hard to hide. 

His mother had apparently hit him in the eye, and the bruise was so dark and swollen that Frank couldn’t even open his eye all the way. He also had an angry red line running along his jaw that looked like a burn.

“Frank… What the hell happened?”

“Tried to get Mom to let me help make dinner,” Frank mumbled. 

“Dude, that looks really _bad._ What did she hit you with?”

“A pan,” Frank said, shrugging his shoulders like it was no big deal. 

“Did she burn you?” Mikey asked, reaching out and touching the red line on Frank’s face. His friend flinched and shook his head.

“That was my fault. She was holding the skillet and… I don’t know. I walked into it.”

“Walked into a skillet? Come _on,_ Frank!”

“That’s how it happened!” Frank said. “She was holding it and I got too close to her, she turned around and it burnt my face. She didn’t mean to. She even went to the pharmacy to get stuff to put on it—”

“So it doesn’t scar. So no one knows what she did—”

“It was an accident, Mikey!” Frank said, a sob suddenly breaking out. “Okay? She didn’t mean to! Momma wouldn’t _burn_ me! She _loves_ me!”

“She gave you a black eye!”

“I embarrassed her,” Frank whimpered. “I—I humiliated her. She’s so embarrassed about that video…”

“That’s no reason to beat you up,” Mikey said, grabbing Frank’s shoulder and then backing off when Frank cried out in pain. “What the hell, Frank!?”

“Just don’t touch me!” Frank cried, clutching at his shoulder and trembling. 

“She’s getting out of hand. Would you just…just come stay with me for a few days. Just until you’re better.”

“No! I’m staying with Momma. She—”

“She hurts you.”

“Well I humiliated her! She won’t even talk to me now—she just keeps calling me a sodomite. I can’t believe this is happening to me,” Frank said, sinking down onto his floor and covering his face with his hands—one hand wrapped up in a bandage. One night was all it took for his mother to leave bruises and burns and possibly even break bones…

“I still don’t understand why you _did_ that, Frank. What were you thinking?” Mikey asked, sitting down beside his friend on the floor. 

“I was thinking he _liked_ me! I thought he actually liked me! I wasn’t going to say no and have him walk away.” 

Mikey felt his stomach sink as he watched Frank crying. He was literally _that desperate_ for attention; so lonely he would do whatever some stranger asked him to do in hopes that something nice might happen to him in return. Logic would tell him nothing good would come of it. Frank had never acted so blindly or foolishly before and even if Mikey was mad at him, he still understood what it meant. Things had gotten so bad for him at home that he was willing to suspend all rational thought. In Frank’s mind, everything was already as bad as it could get. He had nothing left to lose even if Kyle hurt him, or gave him some disease. 

Though he doubted Frank ever realized it would’ve ended up on film getting shown around in the halls at school. He probably wouldn’t have done it if he’d known that could happen…right?

“What did your mom do when she found out?”

“She wouldn’t talk to me,” Frank cried. “She wouldn’t even look at me. She—She told the principal that she was ashamed I was her son and it was horrible.”

Not knowing how to help, Mikey handed Frank some of the food he’d brought. Thankfully, Frank accepted the offer and started sipping the juice from one of the fruit cups. 

“I’m scared to go back to school,” Frank murmured after a long silence.

“People have already…backed off a little about it,” Mikey said. “When are you coming back?”

“Next week maybe,” Frank whispered. “The counselor said I should stay away for a while to…feel better.”

“Are they going to make you meet with her at school?” Mikey asked. Back in middle school when he got bullied, the school forced him to stay after once a week to talk to the guidance counselor to make sure he didn’t off himself or start a school shooting.

“Yeah. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays during lunch.”

“That much!?” Mikey asked, dumbfounded.

“They want to talk about Momma too,” Frank whispered. 

“Did they see the bruises?”

“No. She yelled at them about me when they called her in. They’re trying to get me to admit the things she does, but…I know what to say.”

“If you tell them the truth, they can help.”

“I don’t want Momma in jail,” Frank muttered. “I love Mom. It’s not her fault. I won’t turn my back on her.”

“What all did she say to them?” Mikey asked, trying to give Frank the room to vent, but Frank just shook his head.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Frank, are you sure you don’t want to just come to my place for a few days? My mom _won’t_ mind.”

“No,” Frank whispered, opening another fruit cup and drinking all the juice before knocking a few of the diced bits of pear into his mouth. 

Mikey sighed but didn’t push the issue any further. Right now it would just push Frank away. He didn’t want Frank to cut him out again, even if what Frank had done was an embarrassment to Mikey too. And deep down Mikey knew that if Frank cut himself off from the world again, he probably wouldn’t survive his mother’s abuse alone. Mikey would never forgive himself if Frank committed suicide because he’d pushed him too hard. 

( ) ( ) ( )

The students still laughed at him when they saw him. Frank tried to keep his head down, hoping that if he couldn’t see the other students, they wouldn’t see him. After the first few days back the laughter stopped for the most part. Lunch time on Tuesdays and Thursdays (the only days he wasn’t kept locked up with Karen the Kind Counselor) was the only time the other students really tormented him and Frank tried to stay focused on the conversation at his and Mikey’s table instead of the jeering going on behind his back. 

Even though he had Kyle in one of his classes, Frank didn’t bother trying to speak to the other boy. He didn’t want more reasons to be made fun of, and after seeing the video for himself he knew Kyle was the one who’d filmed it. 

He wanted to ask Kyle why—why did it have to be him? Why couldn’t he just leave him alone or tell stories about it instead of spreading a video? But Frank knew it would just cause more trouble. It would just give Kyle more to torment him about and Frank would be lucky if he didn’t get beaten up for spreading “lies” about Kyle being the other person in the video. 

He would never have enough courage to confront Kyle so he let the bad feelings go, burying them deeper and deeper until he couldn’t feel them anymore. They stayed where he kept his angry feelings toward everyone—toward his mother, toward his grandmother, toward his father—and on the outside all he showed was emptiness and tiredness. Pretending to be numb so he looked like a less appealing target to the other students. 

Pretending… But it was never good enough.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Frank's mom says quite a few controversial things. The things she says are her opinion and I do not mean to cause any offense to anyone, but rather show some of why this particular character behaves as she does. It is meant to be jarring and disturbing, but not in any way politically charged. _End Disclaimer_

_Chapter 9_

Frank tried to block out the sound of her voice coming through his bedroom walls. His mother, unable to sleep for all the sorrow in her heart, was on the phone with her mother, crying deeply—barely able to form words under the weight of her sobs. Frank couldn’t bear to hear her like that. Maybe his mother disliked him, maybe she really did hate him now after that video had come out, but he still loved her and it pained him to hear her crying. He wanted to help her. He wanted to go to her and offer comfort, but he knew that his was the last face she wanted to see. 

She’d said it enough times herself. 

“Oh, Mother, you don’t _understand!_ ” His mother cried in the next room. “No—No, you’ve got it _all wrong._ It’s not my fault!” A pause before she screamed it again, louder. “It’s _not_ my fault!”

Frank rolled over and pulled his pillow over his head. It did nothing to deafen him against his mother’s loud cries. She didn’t care if he heard. She made no efforts to keep herself quiet as though she _wanted_ him to hear, wanted him to know what he’d reduced her to.

“Please, Mother. _Please,_ why can’t you just take him? Just _take him,_ please… For the weekend, for a day, _anything._ Just please, _please_ take him. _Get him away from me._ I can’t _stand_ him, Mother. I can’t stand to look at him.” His mother collapsed into sobs then, crying until she started choking. “Oh, Mother, how can you _say_ that? How can you _say that_ to me? You know I— … Mother, please. Just take him. He’s… He’s _good._ He’ll do whatever you tell him to do.”

His grandmother must’ve refused her yet again because his mother broke back down into sobs. 

“I don’t know how you expect me to do this,” she whined. “I _tried_ to love him, Mother, I just _don’t._ I _can’t!_ You think I _wanted_ to have a baby I hate!? I wanted—No! No, _you_ listen! I wanted an abortion! You said no, my _husband_ said no! I hated that _thing_ from the moment I was pregnant and _no one_ was on my side! I tried _everything_ to end him, but he just. wouldn’t. die.” 

Frank felt the tears fall past his eyes even though he’d been trying to fight them. His mother was just sick and he _knew_ that, and it shouldn’t have made him feel guilty to hear what she said, but it did. It wasn’t his fault, but he understood how she must’ve seen it. Whether Frank had a say or not, he’d been born and had ruined his mother’s life. She would’ve been happier without him, and it hurt him so much that one person who was supposed to love him without condition _hated_ him with every part of her being. 

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much if his father hadn’t left him too. Even his father didn’t want him. His father, who had to have known how much his mother resented his birth, left him alone with her. He, too, it seemed, hated Frank so much that he didn’t care what happened to him. Maybe even hoped that Frank would one day be killed by the woman who gave him life. No one would let her terminate him in the womb like she’d wanted, but once he was born he became just another disposable thing.

Frank remembered getting sick a lot as a child and being taken from hospital to hospital in search of treatment. The doctors wouldn’t let him die. The doctors kept referring them to more people and had notices that forced his mother to get him treatment, and if she didn’t she could’ve been prosecuted for neglect. Even back then, with the doctors all around him smiling and reassuring him, his mother lurked in the corner with her cold, angry eyes on him. 

Back then Frank used to tell himself that that was what Momma looked like when she was worried. Now, Frank knew better. That was what his mother looked like when she was wishing him dead. She wanted the doctors to stop trying so hard. She wanted to watch the fevers claim him so she wouldn’t have to pretend to be a loving parent anymore.

“Just take him!” His mother screamed in the next room. “Just take him, Mother! Just take him! _Take him!_ I don’t want him anymore, so can you _please_ just take him away!?”

Frank didn’t sleep much that night, and the next morning as he got ready for school he listened to the sounds of his mother moving through the house. She had showered early, implying she hadn’t slept well either, and was even making breakfast when Frank got downstairs. There was already a plate waiting for him on the table and Frank looked at it sadly, too unhappy to show suspicion. He wondered if today were the day she would finally put ground up glass in his food or lace it with poison. 

“You’re going to waste my efforts letting it sit there and get cold,” his mother said, not turning away from the stove top, not raising her voice any more than a hard, unfriendly growl. There was no rage, just hate.

“No, Momma,” Frank whispered, making himself sit down and pick up his fork. He didn’t want to show how hungry he was, but as soon as the first bite of scrambled egg was in his mouth, he couldn’t stop from shoveling more and more in. His plate was empty by the time his mother sat down across from him with hers. 

She stared at him then and Frank couldn’t bring himself to look at her face for more than a moment. Her eyes were still red and there were dark circles under her eyes only disrupted by streaks left by dried tears. To know his existence caused her that much grief was unbearable. Frank wanted to cry, but didn’t want to draw any more attention onto himself. 

“You know, I… I _wanted_ to love you, Frank,” his mother said, her voice low and trembling. “I tried everything. I…I went to a _therapist._ God knows how much I _hate_ those busybody therapists, Frank, but I _saw_ one when I was pregnant and for _three years_ afterwards. I did everything she said—I read all the books, I met with groups…I took you to _fucking_ Mommy and Me playdates and still… _still_ couldn’t stand you.”

Frank watched helplessly as a few tears ran down his cheeks and dripped onto the table under his gaze. His chest was so tight that the space between every one of his ribs burned and he was afraid to even take a breath—anxious that a sob would break out and she would slap him, or say something worse. Not that there was much worse left to say. 

She’d already expressed that she hated him and had _always_ hated him, and that he was so repulsive to her that nothing in the world could fix it.

“Your father _begged_ me not to abort you. He told me God wouldn’t like it and that I had _nothing_ to be afraid because he would be there to help. He _promised_ me I wouldn’t have to do this on my own. And where is he now?” She paused and when Frank didn’t answer her she slammed her fist on the table and asked him again.

“I don’t know, Momma,” Frank whispered, his voice trembling as he struggled not to cry any harder. 

“You don’t know,” she repeated, sounding disgusted. “He saw what you are, Frank. He saw what I’d _felt_ from the first moment I felt you in my womb. And he _left._ I always knew you were a heathen, even before you proved yourself to be nothing but a filthy sodomite.”

“I’m sorry, Momma,” Frank cried, wiping the tears off his cheeks before she could scold him. 

He was unable to hold back the flinch when she moved from her chair, but it scared him more that she didn’t move to stand before him, she kneeled beside his chair at the table. She took both of his cheeks in her hand and forced him to look down at her. 

“Frank, do you love your mother?” She asked, not cold or harsh. Her question almost sounded genuine.

“Yes, Momma,” Frank said, trying to look earnest.

“Then you’ll do her a favor won’t you? If she asked you to do something, you’d listen.”

“Yes, Momma,” Frank said, swallowing hard. He was afraid of what she would ask. Terrified she’d ask him to swallow drain cleaner or walk over the edge of a bridge. 

“I want you to…to not…come home tonight. Can you do that for your mother? Can you just… _go away?_ Just for tonight, Frankie. Just…go away and don’t come home.”

“Wh-where should I—”

“ _Away,_ ” his mother repeated, stroking his cheek and flashing him a smile. “You can come back tomorrow. I’ll even give you dinner. But I don’t want you to stay here tonight. I want you to go away. I want a break from looking at you. Will you do that for me, Frankie? Will you go away?”

“Yes, Momma,” Frank murmured, blinking back more tears.

“Good boy,” his mother said, suddenly slapping his cheek with one hand while holding his face still with the other. Then she stood up and, without looking back, slid her plate of untouched food in front of Frank. “Eat. Then get out. Lock the door behind you.”

She gathered her work things and was gone, smiling as she went, leaving without making sure Frank was locked outside and on his way to school.

Once the door had closed behind her, Frank buried his face in his hands and sobbed hard—all the pain and tension fleeing him as he caved. He knew his mother disliked him, but he’d never known it ran so deep. He had always clung to the illusion that somewhere underneath she loved him, that a part of her cared whether he lived or died and that her illness covered it up, but now he knew better. The only part of him which brought her any joy was the thought that one day he might die and disappear from her life forever. 

( ) ( ) ( )

When Mikey arrived at school, Frank was sitting in front of his locker crying with his head in his hands. The other students who walked past him looked down and laughed, and Mikey scowled at them before sitting down on the floor next to his friend and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“What happened?” Mikey asked, keeping his voice as gentle as he possibly could. Usually if Frank was this upset he hid in a bathroom stall, not weep in plain sight on the floor of hallway. 

“Momma told me not to come home,” Frank said, hiccupping and choking on his words. “She really hates me, Mikey. She _hates_ me.”

“It’s… It’s okay,” Mikey said, wanting to give Frank a hug but fearful that the rumors would start up again that he was the one in the video. “You can come stay with me. My parents won’t mind.”

“I don’t _want_ to,” Frank cried. “I want…I want _Mom._ I don’t understand… I don’t understand what I did wrong.”

“Frank, she’s sick,” Mikey said, squeezing Frank’s shoulder reassuringly. “It’s not you. Come on. We’re going to be late to class.”

“I’m not going,” Frank said, his voice going shrill.

“Frank—” Mikey was cut off when Frank pulled away from him and quickly stood up from the floor. “Frank, wait!”

But Frank was already gone, sprinting down the hallway, past the VP, and out the front doors of the school. Mikey hesitated and then bolted after him, afraid that if Frank got away he might hurt himself or simply never return to school again. He couldn’t have his friend walk out of his life that easily. Especially not when Frank needed so much help. 

When he got out onto the sidewalk, he looked around and spotted Frank rounding the corner of the clock. Mikey hurried after him, and managed to grab him by the strap of his backpack to keep him from sprinting off. He refused to let go, even when Frank yelled at him and started throwing his weight around to the point where he dragged both of them to the ground. 

“Frank, stop it!” Mikey yelled when his friend continued resisting. “Where are you going?”

“Away! Like she told me!” Frank screamed, actually throwing fists in an attempt to get Mikey away from him. 

“You don’t need to do that,” Mikey said, pinning Frank’s wrists to the sidewalk to get his friend to stop trying to punch him. “Would you knock it off!? I’m trying to help you! If you don’t quit the cops are going to come here and pick us up for ditching class!”

Mikey was able to pull Frank up to his feet and guided him away from the school building. He took Frank to his house. As soon as he came through the front door, his mother called to him from upstairs—mistaking him for Gerard who had dropped Mikey off at school on his way in to work. 

“Did you forget something?”

“It’s me, Ma,” Mikey called.

“What are you doing home!?” When his mother’s voice became angry, Frank tried to go back out the front door but Mikey held him by his book bag to keep him from escaping. As soon as his mother got to the bottom of the stairs and spotted Frank, her entire demeanor changed and she even replaced the anger on her face with a bright smile. “Oh, Frankie—I didn’t know you were here. You want something to eat? I have fruit salad in the fridge.”

“No thank you,” Frank whispered. He cringed when she approached him, knowing before she even touched him that she was concerned about the mark on his cheek from the burn that was still healing. She turned his chin with her fingers and clicked her tongue before smoothing her thumb over the discolored line. 

“You sure you don’t want anything? I have all kinds of fruit juice in the fridge. Come. I’ll get you some breakfast,” she gestured for him to follow her to the kitchen and Mikey no less than pushed him forward to make sure he didn’t try slipping back out the door. 

“I already had breakfast,” Frank whispered. “Two plates. I’m…I’m full.”

“Then let me get you a drink.” Without any encouragement, she took a glass from the cupboard and filled it with peach mango juice from the fridge. “Here, Frankie. Take a seat in the living room. I was going to start a load of laundry. You boys can watch some tv if you want. Make yourself at home, Frankie.”

As soon as she was gone from sight, Mikey sat down on the chair in the living room while Frank laid face down on the couch, his backpack lying beside him on the floor. He had set his juice on the coffee table without taking a single sip and continued to cry even after Mikey turned on the television. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard covered his face and rolled his eyes when he saw his mother’s distinctive car pull into the parking lot outside of his store. The last time his mother visited him at work she had completely humiliated him—not only scolding him for leaving his room a mess as if he were still a child, but also speaking to him in baby talk intentionally to cause him embarrassment. 

He stared down at the shelf on which he was leaning and only looked up again when he heard the doorbell as his mother stepped inside the Spend N Save. When he saw Mikey and _Frank_ entering his store as well, Gerard narrowed his eyes and stepped out from behind the counter to approach them. 

His mother, of course, forced him to hug her even though they seldom hugged when they were in their own home. It was all for show, so that Ellen and Ray could laugh at his expense. Once she finally let him go, Gerard got to ask the question nagging his brain: “What the hell is Mikey doing out of school?”

“Well, Frank is paying us a visit so Mikey stayed with him,” his mother said, putting an arm around Frank and hugging him gently even though the boy tried pulling away from her. He was looking at Gerard completely stunned and terrified, even beginning to tremble when Gerard met his gaze. 

“I want to wait—”

“No, don’t be silly, Frankie. You’re staying with us for a few days—”

“No—”

“—so you should pick out some food and snacks.”

“No. Thank you, but no. I-I… I wanna wait outside. I shouldn’t…” He stared at Gerard and then bolted for the door, running out into the parking lot and slamming straight into the trunk of a parked car in his mad rush. 

“Mikey, go and get him!” Their mother yelled, pushing her son toward the door before going and getting a cart. “Wish I knew what in the world _that_ was about,” she said, looking out the windows at Frank and Mikey who were both sitting on the ground in the parking lot

“I’ve caught that kid stealing from my store twice now,” Gerard said, rolling his eyes when he heard his mother let out a noise of disgust. “Don’t start. I know his mother’s a psycho. She beat the shit out of him the second time.”

“I know it’s your job, but you need to leave Frankie alone. Do you know his mother threw him out this morning? Mikey told me that Frank was asked not to come home. Can you _believe_ that? What kind of a mother can turn her own child out onto the street and genuinely _not care_ about where he goes?”

Gerard walked with his mother through the aisles, listening to her commentary on bad parenting and how much better of a mother she was than Mrs. Iero. And whenever Gerard failed to comment, his mother would slap him on the arm until he agreed with her every word. Yes, his mother was _very_ supportive. Yes, his mother was _very_ nurturing. Yes, his mother was _very_ loving. 

Gerard drew the line at kind, though. She was far from being a kind woman. She was Italian and grew up in Jersey. Calling her kind was as offensive as calling fire cold. She wasn’t mean per se, but she was tough and didn’t take shit from anyone. If she thought someone was trying to insult her, she wouldn’t hold back for a second. 

“I would call Children’s Services on that woman, Gerard, if I knew she wouldn’t _kill him_ before they got to him.”

“Yeah, I was about to call them the last time they were here, too,” Gerard confessed. “She slapped him until he got a bloody nose and then dragged him up by his hair. I had to pull him away from her to get her to stop.”

“You know, I have all the right to call that woman and tell her she’s _never_ getting her son back. With you working now and paying your own bills, I can afford to feed another boy.”

“You can’t just kidnap her son.”

“God help that woman if she tried to stop me!” His mother yelled, actually startling him with her rage. “If she said _one word_ to me about wanting him back, I’d tell her I’m reporting her for all the abuse. She’d be in jail so fast her fucking head would spin.”

Caught up in her tantrum, she didn’t realize that Mikey had coaxed Frank back into the store, or that he was standing behind her at the mouth of the aisle looking absolutely horrified and devastated. 

“Mom…” Gerard said, tapping her shoulder to get her to turn around.

“What?” She asked, shrugging away from him.

“Mom,” Gerard said again, nudging her shoulder this time so she turned around to look at Frank. 

“Oh… Frank, I didn’t—”

“Please don’t call the cops on my mom,” Frank said, chewing his bottom lip anxiously. “She doesn’t _mean_ it. She’s just sick. The doctors, they say that—”

“I know, Frankie. I know. I’m sorry.” She stepped over to him and practically forced him into a hug it was obvious he didn’t want. “It just upsets me. You’re a good kid, Frankie. She shouldn’t treat you that way.”

Frank said nothing, just stood there as she held him, his gaze fixed on Gerard with fear etched in every red vein marking the whites of his eyes. 

“Mom, I’m gonna go back to watching the front,” Gerard said, stepping away before she could answer. 

He didn’t know if Frank would actually be staying in his house that night or if the boy was going to run away down the street the moment his back was turned, but Gerard wasn’t looking forward to it. If word got out to the staff—or reached corporate—that he’d befriended one of the store’s most notorious thieves, he could lose his job if Frank walked out with a single product that Gerard didn’t catch.


	10. Chapter 10

_Chapter 10_

When Gerard got home, Frank was sleeping face down on their couch while Mikey sat on the floor watching the television. Their mother was in the kitchen making dinner, and Gerard slipped down into his basement bedroom and changed out of his Spend N Save uniform in favor of his black jeans and skeleton hoodie. It was uncomfortable to have Frank in his house, and not just because Frank was a regular thief from his store. 

Mikey claimed Frank was his best friend and even their mother acted like she’d known Frank forever, so why hadn’t Gerard ever heard of him before? Was he really that out of touch? He’d never considered himself to be a particularly bad older brother, but how good of a sibling could he actually be if he didn’t know who Mikey’s best friend was? 

Gerard guessed he had no one to blame except for himself. After all, instead of going upstairs and hanging out with his brother before dinner, Gerard just laid in his bed sketching until his mother called down to him that dinner was ready.

When he went upstairs, he was surprised to find everyone sitting around the dining room table. Most often they just took their plates and parted ways—his dad ate with their mother on the couch, Mikey ate in front of the tv with them or in his room, and Gerard always ate alone in his bedroom. Only today, because Frank was there, they were playing the part of a happy family.

Gerard was made to sit in the seat across from Frank and he shifted uncomfortably in the boy’s presence. Frank also kept squirming in his seat, and Gerard wondered if it was because he was nervous or if he was in pain from some beating his mother had given him before telling him to leave and stay out of the house for a night.

How a woman could do such a thing to a kid as pitiful as Frank, Gerard would never understand. Frank wasn’t even a bad kid. He was quiet and polite and so fucking traumatized he couldn’t even serve himself food from the bowls and dishes laid out on the table. Mikey ended up fixing a plate for him. It was then that Gerard realized the meal his mother had prepared was lacking one big thing: Meat.

“Is this everything?” Gerard asked, looking the table up and down in search of anything rich in protein but there was nothing—no chicken, no beef, no ham, nothing.

“Yes. Why?” His mother asked, gathering a forkful of food. 

“No reason,” Gerard mumbled.

“Frank doesn’t eat meat if that’s what you’re wondering,” Mikey said like some sort of four-eyed mind-reader. 

“I’m sorry,” Frank whispered, looking at his plate as he spoke. The phrase was practically a reflex to him, and when Gerard’s mother told Frank it was fine and she didn’t mind having a meal without meat for a change, Frank just apologized again. The boy hesitated a long time before finally taking a bite of the food as if ashamed that his hunger compelled him to eat—as if he’d rather decline the offer for food and go hungry so he wouldn’t have to feel a burden.

“I hope everything tastes alright,” their mother said. “I tried a new recipe I found online for the green bean casserole.”

“It’s fine, Ma,” Gerard said after his mother repeated the phrase three more times, changing it only slightly as she fished for a reaction or a comment from Frank who was steadily picking at his food. It was strange, the way he ate. He would get one bit of food on his fork—the smallest possible bit—and shoved it in his mouth. As soon as the fork was empty, he stabbed another piece of food and shoved it in his mouth as well even if he was still chewing. He had a steady rhythm and it was starting to make Gerard uncomfortable. 

Eating wasn’t supposed to be a mechanical, clockwork process. 

“Maybe after dinner, Gerard, you can let the boys play video games in your room.”

“Okay,” Gerard said, not liking the idea of having Frank in his bedroom. He understood that at the Spend N Save Frank stole food out of necessity, but he also tried to steal shit like nail polish and headphones. There weren’t any cameras in Gerard’s bedroom to catch it if Frank tried to pocket some of his money or one of is rare comics. 

Gerard wasn’t about to make a scene over it though. He would just keep his eye on the boy. 

“I should…probably go,” Frank said all of a sudden. But he spoke it so quietly that it was barely even audible. 

“You’re not leaving,” their mother said, daring to sound firm. 

“I don’t want to be trouble,” Frank mumbled, setting his fork down even though he still had half a plate left of food. Didn’t want to be _in_ trouble seemed more likely, in Gerard’s opinion. He couldn’t help but feel that boy wanted to sleep outside on the street because he felt that was what his mother wanted. She’d obviously kicked him out as a punishment, and staying at his friend’s house being treated right for once in his life was a slap in the face to whatever lesson his mother was trying to teach him. 

“Frankie, you’re not trouble. Now eat your dinner before it gets cold.”

Frank looked like he was going to cry as he set back to eating. Mikey had served him more than he could eat, and Gerard noticed it the moment Frank was full. The boy started looking around at everyone as if to gauge how much food they had on their plates, and then would look back down at his own and swallow hard before trying to force more into his stomach than it could hold. 

His mother kept him starved so it didn’t take much to fill him up.

Suddenly, Frank looked up from his plate and locked eyes with Gerard who had a split-second realization that he’d been fucking staring at the poor kid for over ten minutes. As soon as Frank saw him staring, he set down his fork and scooted his chair back. He looked like he wanted to run away, but he kept glancing over at Gerard’s mother—terrified that if he jumped up to leave she might yell at him or punish him. 

“I shouldn’t be here,” Frank whispered. “My grandma lives…nearby. I can go there for tonight.”

“Your grandma lives in Pennsylvania,” Mikey said as if he really thought his mom would let Frank run away to his grandmother’s house even if the woman lived down the street.

“I don’t understand why you’re so uncomfortable, Frankie. There’s more than enough room for you here and it’s just for tonight. So _please._ Relax, eat your dinner, and then…you and Mikey can relax before bedtime.”

“Bedtime?” Mikey asked, scrunching up his face at the juvenile word. He hadn’t had a set bedtime since he was ten. 

“Yes. Bedtime. Eleven o’clock,” their mother said.

“What? Ugh!” 

“Listen to your mother, Michael,” their father said, his first comment of the night. He seemed to be ignoring Frank for the most part. Gerard attributed most of his inability to properly socialize with other people to whatever genetics his father had given him. Their mother had friends and liked to gossip with the ladies at the beauty parlor. Their father didn’t even have drinking buddies anymore. 

It didn’t surprise Gerard one bit when his father’s disinterested tone appeared to frighten Frank who covered his face for a moment before trying to force more food into his stomach than it could handle. After a few more bites he started to whimper and Gerard sent a look to Mikey who glanced at Frank before shrugging and turning back to his older brother. After all, what was he supposed to do? Steal the plate? Dump his drink on it so Frank would stop overeating? 

Gerard wished there was something he could do—a topic he could bring up or a story he could tell—that would get Frank to calm down. He didn’t need to be so tense or so anxious. Their house wasn’t a strict house. No one here was going to hurt him. Even Gerard, who had gotten Frank in trouble twice now with his mother at the Spend N Save, had no intention of taking out any pent up hostilities on the boy here. 

Hell, if he saw Frank pocketing anything short of money from him or his parents’ wallets, Gerard wasn’t going to say anything about it. There was a difference between getting paid to protect a store and protecting his own home. At the store, he had policies and police as well as a staff to back him up. Here, at his own little house, he had nothing. He wasn’t going to call the cops on Frank if he started stealing DVDs or even Gerard’s most precious comics. In all honesty, he was afraid that if he even caught Frank stealing money that their mother would lose her shit if Gerard tried confronting him about it.

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard’s room was amazing. Frank couldn’t help but gape at how large it was, how spacious and how cluttered with _stuff!_ Frank didn’t have a lot of things at home, and even if Gerard’s room only took up a corner of the basement space, it was still much larger than Frank’s tiny bedroom. He had books and comics and movies all laying around, and sketchbooks and painting supplies and artwork all over. Everything Frank saw he wanted to put his hands on, but he was afraid that Gerard—the _loss prevention manager_ of the Spend N Save—would think he was trying to steal it and kick him out.

Even if Frank had offered to leave multiple times at dinner, he didn’t _really_ want to spend the night out on the street. It was starting to get cold at night and Frank didn’t have a coat, and the only place he could think of to sleep was on the benches out back of the school but drug dealers were known to hang out there late at night and Frank didn’t want killed for seeing something he wasn’t supposed to.

He liked it at Mikey’s house. Donna was so nice and so _warm._ Frank had only seen her a handful of times before and even then all she’d ever tried to do was force food down his throat. Today, though, she wouldn’t stop pulling him in for hugs or rubbing his back and shoulders whenever she passed him. She was so kind to him and it would be a lie if Frank said he didn’t want to stick around and soak up all the affection he could get. 

At first he’d been very opposed to the idea of going down into Gerard’s room, especially after the dinner conversation had shifted to Gerard’s day at work. Apparently the company hired him to monitor stores that lost a lot of money to theft, both internal and external. Gerard had caught a lot of people trying to steal all sorts of thing from the store—ranging from hair dye to packets of pencils—but admitted that he had his eyes on one of the cashiers.

Frank couldn’t believe his terrible luck that his best friend’s older brother was the one who kept catching him stealing, and it embarrassed him that Gerard had gotten to see him sob like a child and get slapped by his mother the last time they’d seen each other. 

Even so, outside of the store Gerard seemed to be not so different from Mikey. He was reserved, a little bit shy actually, and had the same sort of creative mind that Frank’s best friend did—except Gerard was more into art it seemed than he was into music. 

“You have…a lot of art,” Frank said, stammering a little as he watched Gerard and Mikey setting up an old Nintendo. 

“Yeah… I was gonna go to art school, but…”

“But?” Frank asked, daring to push a little further than he normally would. Typically around strangers Frank didn’t care to say much, but he felt safe in Mikey’s home. Even if Gerard had caught him stealing at the Spend N Save, at his house he was far less intimidating. 

“Couldn’t afford it,” Gerard mumbled. 

“Oh,” Frank moved over to Gerard’s bed to sit down, watching the two brothers set up the console, occasionally yelling at each other in frustration before laughing it off once the Nintendo started up.

“Frank, you wanna be player one?” Mikey asked, looking back at Frank and offering him the remote. Frank shook his head. He wasn’t good at video games, and he knew Mikey got frustrated whenever his character died. Even if Mikey’s anger wasn’t directed at him, Frank preferred to keep his distance between them and had no problem watching the brothers play instead of joining them.

“You sure you don’t wanna play?” Gerard asked, looking back at Frank with one of his eyebrows raised. 

“I’m…I’m fine,” Frank said, fidgeting in his seat on Gerard’s bed.

“You sure? You _can_ play,” Gerard said.

“I’m sure. I…I like to watch.”

“Alright. Suit yourself,” Gerard said, turning back to the screen. He and Mikey began playing the game and almost instantly began bickering back and forth and teasing one another. Frank enjoyed watching them almost as much as he enjoyed watching the game play out on the television screen. It was almost like watching a mini movie, except the directors were providing more of a commentary than there was a narrative in the story. 

Mikey had more to say than Gerard, and Frank was impressed to see a different side of him. At school Mikey was always quiet and reserved. He was bullied, no as much as Frank but enough to keep him reserved. Of course, when Frank spent time alone with Mikey, Mikey always did most of the talking but Frank always assumed it was because he was just the quiet one. Frank never had much to say except what hurt that day and why he didn’t want Mikey telling the cops about it on his behalf. To see Mikey playfully bullying someone else was fun to watch. Especially when the one on the receiving end of the harassment was someone Frank perceived as a person of authority. Who would have ever guessed that Gerard, the loss prevention manager of the Spend N Save, had a little brother who could readily get away with calling him a dimwitted sore-loser. 

Frank was almost tempted to ask to play just to see if he could get away with saying the same kinds of things to the older brother. After all, it would be nice to say something back to the guy after he’d gotten Frank in trouble with his mother so many times. 

But Frank would never have the courage to do that. If anything, he’d probably lose on purpose just so Gerard couldn’t get angry with him. Sometimes it was better to let things go as they were. Gerard was older. Gerard had authority. Frank was lesser. Frank had no right to even _think_ of disrespecting him. Not here, at least. Not in his own house, and especially not when Gerard and his family were being kind enough to let Frank stay with them free of charge.


	11. Chapter 11

_Chapter 11_

Mikey guessed he probably let himself get too caught up in his video game competition with Gerard, because when he turned around to check on Frank, his friend was sleeping soundly in Gerard’s bed. He slept curled into a tiny ball, his hands clasped together and folded close to his chest, his nose buried against the knuckles of his fingers. It was as though he were trying to protect himself from an attack, ready to be hurt even when he was sleeping. It was sad and pathetic, and Mikey felt awful for him.

It was getting late though and they needed to go to bed before his mom came downstairs and started enforcing her new curfew. 

“You can just leave him down here,” Gerard said when Mikey went to shake Frank’s shoulder.

“I’m not gonna leave him down here with you,” Mikey said, nudging Frank until his friend sat up with a gasp. For a moment he was disoriented and kept looking around frantically until his eyes rested on Mikey.

“What?” He asked, trying to catch his breath. “What time is it?”

“I was gonna go upstairs before Mom tells us to go to bed,” Mikey said. 

“Oh,” Frank mumbled, looking around again. He seemed to notice Gerard standing over by the television and then immediately dropped his gaze and stood up from the bed on slightly shaking limbs. 

Mikey led Frank upstairs, pausing briefly in the living room as his parents talked to Frank about where the food was in the cupboards if he got hungry in the night. It embarrassed Frank—it humiliated him—and Mikey felt bad as he watched Frank try to smile through the shame as he thanked them for letting him stay the night. 

His mom told Frank that she’d already set up the futon in Mikey’s room, but if he was uncomfortable upstairs he could always come sleep on the couch. Frank repeatedly thanked her until Mikey managed to get them both upstairs. He gave Frank some pajamas to sleep in and then went to take a shower, leaving Frank alone in the bedroom so he had the time to relax on his own—giving him the room to breathe, or cry, or scream into a pillow. Frank kept his composure very well around others, but Mikey knew the abuse he suffered hurt him much more than he could ever attempt to hide. His calmness was a façade. 

That was proven when Mikey came back to the bedroom to find Frank sitting in the futon crying. 

“I’m sorry,” he said as soon as he noticed Mikey standing there. He tried wiping the tears off his face, but the gesture only made him look more pitiful. 

“It’s okay,” Mikey said, shrugging. He was worried about Frank, but he knew it did no good to make a fuss over him when he was sad. Frank would either shut down or get angry. The only reason Frank was ever unhappy was because of his mother and he would never speak bad about her even if she told him she hated him and proved it again and again. He was so _loyal_ to her and it was a dedication Mikey would never, _ever_ understand. 

“I don’t know what’s happening,” Frank said. 

“What’s happening?” Mikey asked.

“Like with Mom and at school. I don’t know if that video is still out there and…every day it’s like it can come back. The teachers look at me like I’m _nothing_ and people still laugh at me.” Frank started blinking rapidly as he fought the tears. “Then I go home and my mom gets mad at me and yells at me and it starts all over. I don’t know what to do anymore. It’s _hard._ ”

“It’ll get better, Frank. You’ve only got…a couple more years at school and then…” Mikey trailed off. It was pointless to try to comfort him. He would graduate _eventually_ and he wouldn’t get bullied by the students anymore. But then what? Then he’d be at home with his mother, constantly at her disposal. Maybe he’d get a job and could avoid her for a few hours a day, but what was to stop her from taking his paycheck? More than an abuser, she was a control freak. She wouldn’t even let Frank stay in the house most of the time that she wasn’t home. 

“I don’t know what I did to her,” Frank cried. 

“You didn’t do anything,” Mikey said, sitting down on the futon beside Frank and placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“Even my grandma doesn’t want me. No one in my family wants anything to do with me… I just don’t understand what I did. I had to have done _something._ ”

“Your family is sick, okay? Your whole fuckin’ family is sick. It’s not you.”

Frank sniffed and stared at the floor, still wiping at the tears on his face in an attempt to keep his face clean of them. 

“I don’t know why Dad didn’t take me. She says that he was the one who made her have me, so why didn’t he want to take me with him?”

“I don’t know. Maybe your mom didn’t let him. Like, maybe he tried.”

“Mom hates me. She wouldn’t have tried to keep me.”

“Maybe she hates your dad more and didn’t want to let him get his way.”

“I don’t think—”

“Think about it. She’s kind of bitter and…selfish. She doesn’t want anyone to get their way but her. So if she thought having you would make him happy, she wanted to stop that from happening.”

“I don’t see her doing that,” Frank said, stubbornly shaking his head. “No. She… She’s _mad_ he didn’t take me. She _hates_ me. She wouldn’t keep me just out of spite.”

Mikey didn’t know what to tell him. All he had in his head were hateful thoughts about Mrs. Iero and Frank wouldn’t want to hear those. He would defend her—even when Mikey suggested even the smallest of things that painted her in a negative light—and protect her. She was the only family Frank had, but Mikey still couldn’t understand it. 

She made him cry every single day of his life. How could he still love her?

Mikey was drawn out of his thoughts when he felt Frank slump against him, resting his head against his shoulder. 

“Frank, I’m gonna go to sleep,” Mikey said, feeling a little cold as he nudged his friend until Frank sat up. 

“Night,” Frank mumbled. He looked dejected as he nestled down on the futon and pulled the blankets up to his chin. 

When Mikey shut off the light and got into the bed, the silence became unbearable. He felt bad for Frank but didn’t know what to say to make him feel better. The more times he heard Frank quietly sniff back his tears, the worse he felt too.

“Frank?”

“What?” Frank mumbled.

“Can’t you just…stay here?”

“Why would I stay here? I have a home…”

“Because…I want you to,” Mikey said. They both knew it was because of his mother. There was no point repeating it again.

“Your parents don’t want me to stay here,” Frank said. “I’d just eat all the food and…get in the way.”

“You wouldn’t be in the way. My mom loves you.”

“I don’t get it,” Frank muttered.

“Get what?”

“Your mom loves me?” Frank asked.

Mikey cringed and rolled over onto his side so he could stare at the covered window, as if believing it had some sort of answer. 

“She does,” Mikey mumbled. Maybe saying his mother, who had met Frank maybe a handful of times, loved him wasn’t the best idea. 

Frank mumbled something Mikey couldn’t hear.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Frank spat. 

Mikey sighed and let the conversation die out. If Frank was smart he’d stay at their place, but Mikey knew he would just go home to his mother the next night even though he knew she didn’t care for him. He would give some kind of an excuse or another for doing it to—like “she needs me” or even something as futile as “if I’m not there to clean the house, she’ll be unhappy.” He would go back and get beaten and be starved and cry… Mikey just didn’t understand why he stayed. It made _no sense_ for him to stay.

But there was nothing he could do about it. Maybe the next time his mother beat him, she would hurt him so bad he would finally get up the nerve to leave. He had options. He wasn’t alone. Maybe next time he’d realize it and just move in. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard couldn’t sleep. Not with Frank in his house. Maybe it was instinct, or maybe it was just a bad habit left ingrained in him from his job, but every time he would be on the cusp of unconsciousness, he would hear a sound from upstairs, imagine it was Frank stealing something from his house, and would go back to being fully awake. He felt _guilty_ for thinking that about Frank, but there was no doubt in his mind that Frank was a thief and that thieves stole from everyone they could. Frank would steal from the Spend N Save, and Frank would steal from their family.

Maybe it would be food—Gerard didn’t care if he went upstairs to find Frank stuffing their canned goods into his pockets—or maybe it would be their money, their mom’s jewelry, their dad’s hidden handgun. He couldn’t just _sleep_ and let that happen.

Eventually he couldn’t take it anymore and he got up from his bed to go sleep on the couch upstairs. He grabbed his pillow and wrapped his comforter around his shoulders before groggily marching up the basement steps. When he stepped up onto the first floor of his house, he listened intently for any sounds of movement. The only noises came from the floorboards shifting of their own accord, moaning the way old houses tend to do after a long day. 

It surprised him that Frank wasn’t in his kitchen, digging through his cupboards, but he guessed it made sense since the boy had gotten a large dinner. 

Gerard set up a makeshift bed on the living room couch and no sooner had he wrapped himself back up in his comforter did he hear the telltale sound of door opening upstairs. He could tell by the direction of the footsteps that followed that it came from Mikey’s room, not his parents’, and Gerard found himself smirking.

Now Frank would come. It was close to two in the morning. He assumed everyone else was asleep and now would be the ripe time to go hunting for items to steal and hide in his backpack so the next morning he could walk out with it all as if nothing were amiss. 

Gerard felt his heartrate pick up as he listened for Frank to come downstairs.

Except the boy never did. Whoever was moving around upstairs—whether it be Frank or Mikey—or went to use the restroom and then went immediately back into the bedroom.

Gerard sighed and rolled over onto his side. In a way he almost felt let down.

How sick did he have to be to get a high from waiting to catch a thief? How sick to he have to be to get a power trip from waiting for a starving boy to come steal food? As quickly as the pleasure had washed over him when he’d first heard the footsteps coming from upstairs, shame ate away at him now. He needed to feel pity for Frank, not smirk at him for being predictable. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Hunger pains woke him up at around four-thirty the next morning, and although Frank tried to fight them the way he had to at home the knowledge that food—accessible food he was allowed to eat—was waiting for him downstairs made it that much more unbearable. After a half hour of lying on his back clutching his stomach, Frank carefully got up from the futon in Mikey’s room and crept over to the door. He kept passing glances to his sleeping friend, fearful that his footfalls would be too loud and wake him. 

Mikey was a heavy sleeper though, and even when the floorboards gave an indignant moan under his weight, Mikey didn’t even stir. 

As soon as the bedroom door was closed, Frank hurried through the hallway and down the stairs. It was hard to keep his footing in the dark, but Frank only slipped once on the stairs and managed to regain his balance before he fell down. When he stepped into the living room, he froze. 

Someone was sleeping on the couch, though it was too dark to tell if it was one of Mikey’s parents or his older brother. No matter who it was, Frank felt sick to his stomach at the sight of them, his hunger fleeing him. He wanted to go back upstairs, but he was petrified. 

As if of their own accord, Frank’s legs collapsed beneath him, dropping him to the floor at the base of the stairs. Frank stayed there cowering. Mikey’s family was nothing like Frank’s, but he’d lived in fear so long—trying hard to move without ever being detected—that he couldn’t bring himself to risk going into the kitchen for food or hurry back upstairs. He was afraid the floorboards would betray him and wake the person on the couch. He was scared they would come upstairs and find him and yell at him for sneaking around.

If it was Gerard on the couch, he would accuse Frank of stealing. He would wake their parents they would throw him out. Maybe they wouldn’t let Mikey talk to him anymore if they thought he was a thief.

Frank stayed there, kneeling on the floor for at least fifteen minutes before he worked up the courage to start back up the stairs. However, the first step he took creaked loudly with his movement and the being on the couch grunted and rolled over. 

It should’ve given Frank the initiative to run—to _hurry_ —but running from his mother only made his beatings worse and Frank sank back down against the stairs. When he heard no other noises from the couch, he tried crawling up the stairs, but every motion was followed by a rustling of the blankets on the couch.

Frank had only moved up three steps on his hands and knees when the person on the couch became aware of him.

“Hey.”

It wasn’t spoken loudly or forcefully, but it startled Frank so badly that he fell down against the steps, his ribs smacking into the edges. When Frank let out a low whine of pain, he heard the person stand up.

“What are you doing?”

The voice belonged to Gerard, the one person Frank _didn’t_ want to catch him sneaking around the house early in the morning. Frank fought to find words—to say he was just getting something to eat, not stealing—but his throat had tightened and it took too much energy fighting not to cry. Crying would just make him look guilty, and it was pathetic, absolutely _pathetic_ to be sixteen and cry so easily.

“What are you doing?” Gerard asked again. He had pulled himself off of the couch and approached the stairs. Moments later he had hooked his hands under Frank’s arms and pulled him up to his feet as if he weighed next to nothing. “Did you fall down the stairs? What are you doing?”

“I was going to get breakfast,” Frank stammered, trembling and wrapping his arms protectively around himself. He tried to disguise the gesture by rubbing at his arms as if cold, but when he glanced up at Gerard’s face he could tell the man wasn’t fooled.

“Breakfast?” Gerard asked, his voice strained with sleep. “It’s still dark out. What are you…ugh, whatever.” Gerard turned away and started rubbing at his face and eyes. “What _time_ is it?”

“I don’t know,” Frank whispered, still shaking. He wanted to get his composure, to act his age for once instead of like a five-year-old, but it was hard when every nerve in his body was buzzing with fear. He expected to be struck, or yelled at, or kicked out onto the street. It was cold out now and Frank didn’t want to wander around the city waiting for the school to be unlocked. 

“Shit,” Gerard groaned, still trying to rub the sleep from his eyes. “Well if you want breakfast just go get it.” Instead of leaving Frank to go to the kitchen on his own, Gerard placed one of his blanket-draped hands onto Frank’s shoulder and guided him into the kitchen. “What do you want—do you want cereal?”

“I can’t, I… I’m lactose intolerant so—”

“Oh. Right, right… Um. We’ve got…shit, I don’t know,” Gerard mumbled, looking around in one of cupboards. “There’s pancakes but I don’t cook…um.”

“I should go back to bed,” Frank mumbled. “It’s early. I don’t want to make trouble.” 

“It’s not _trouble,_ ” Gerard said, moaning sleepily. He moved from the cupboard to the freezer and stared at it with the same vacant expression he had when examining the cupboards. “We’ve got waffles.”

“I like waffles,” Frank said, a little hopefully. 

“Alright. We’ve got waffles,” Gerard said, grabbing the box of frozen, toaster waffles and pulling it free of the packages around it. “Mom will be up soon—”

“I’ll eat fast,” Frank said. He didn’t want to be in Donna’s way when she was trying to get food ready for her family. 

“What?”

“I’ll eat fast…”

“Why?” Gerard asked, fixing Frank with a confused, _exhausted_ stare as he stepped over to the toaster and put four of the waffles inside. Frank felt his stomach tighten when Gerard announced that the box was empty and threw it away. He hadn’t meant to eat _all_ their food. What would Donna say if she wanted waffles or if her husband wanted waffles? She would be disappointed. She wouldn’t want Frank around if he was going to eat all their food…

When the waffles popped back up, Gerard dropped them down onto a plate which he handed to Frank, still blinking through his sleepy daze. 

“Eat.”

Frank held the plate and looked around, not sure whether he should sit at the table or go sit in the living room.

“You okay?” Gerard asked, sounding bored rather than concerned. 

“Where do you want me to…”

“To sit?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t care,” Gerard said. “I’m going to lay back down.”

“Okay,” Frank said, sitting down awkwardly at the kitchen table. As soon as he was about to take a bite of the waffles, Gerard started speaking to him again. 

“You want butter or something for those?”

“Lactose intolerant,” Frank repeated, speaking as softly as he could in hopes Gerard wouldn’t actually hear him. His mother got angry about his disorder. Sometimes she went so far as to say he made it up to get out of eating certain meals or as a means to intentionally waste her money by making her buy more expensive dairy-substitute products. 

“Right…syrup? Do you want syrup? You’re not just gonna sit there and eat those plain. They’re like…six months old. They’re disgusting. Here.” Without any prompting, Gerard opened the cupboard and pulled out a bottle of unopened syrup. 

Frank’s already tense muscles tightened further as he watched Gerard uncap the bottle and peel off the foil safety seal before replacing the cap and setting the bottle before him on the table. Not only had Frank used up all their waffles, now he was getting into unopened products. 

Donna was going to _hate_ him by the time she got up. Was Gerard doing this on _purpose?_ Did he want Donna to get mad at Frank and throw him out? If that was the case, why didn’t Gerard just ask him to leave? 

“What’s the matter?”

“Your mom…she’s—she’s gonna get mad at me for eating all your stuff,” Frank mumbled.

“No she’s not,” Gerard said, rolling his eyes. “Kid… My mom’s gonna be stoked that those waffles are out of our freezer and she doesn’t give a shit about syrup. Do you want the syrup?”

Frank glanced at the bottle and then looked down at his stack of bland waffles. 

“Oh my God. We’re not doing this,” Gerard said, grabbing the syrup bottle and dumping a mess of syrup onto the waffles until the top one hardly looked edible. He got a fork and knife from the drawer and set them on Frank’s plate before wandering back out of the room and going to lie down on the couch again. 

Frank slowly started to pick at the waffles. It didn’t take him long to finish them, even though he wished Gerard hadn’t added so much syrup. He knew the man only did it to prove a point and Frank understood that Gerard didn’t think Donna would be mad about a little syrup—but now there wasn’t just missing waffles and an opened bottle of syrup, there were dishes. As soon as his plate was empty, Frank went to the sink and started washing his plate, afraid that at any moment Gerard would come try to stop him either saying his mom would want to do the dishes herself or that Frank didn’t need to worry about them.

It just seemed rude to eat someone else’s food and then leave the messy dishes behind. 

“Oh, Frank! I didn’t know you were up.”

As soon as the voice rang out, Frank’s knees gave out and he sank to the floor. It was a horrible instinct ingrained into his body after years of trying to dodge blows to the head and face. If his mother ever caught him where she didn’t want him to be, she would call out to him and then strike him. Focused on washing his plate and silverware as well as a few of the other dishes in the sink left over from dinner, Frank hadn’t realized Donna had come downstairs. 

“Oh—Frankie!” When he dropped to the floor, Donna let out a sound of pity mixed with laughter. Before Frank could even turn around on the floor to face her, she had turned off the sink and then had her hands on his shoulders and was pulling him back up. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said, laughing as she smoothed his hair. Frank flinched when she grabbed his chin but she didn’t let go. Her eyes darted around his face searching for marks or bruises, and then stroked his cheek before releasing him. “What are you doing up?”

“I got…hungry,” Frank whispered. 

“Oh. Did Gerard help you get something?”

“Y-Yeah, he got me waffles,” Frank stammered.

“The waffles are finally gone? Oh _good!_ ” As Gerard had predicted, Donna looked practically gleeful as she spied the empty waffle box in the trash. “I’ve been waiting _months_ for those boys to finally finish them. But I don’t suppose you’ll have room for breakfast now, will you?” 

“I can eat,” Frank said. He wasn’t exactly _starving,_ but if there was more food he would gladly eat it. His mother promised him dinner when he got home, but there was still the chance she might take it away. 

“Good. I was going to make some pancakes but if you had waffles…hm.” Just like her son, Donna opened the cupboard and stared at it, then moved over to the freezer and then the fridge. “What about omelets? Do you like those?”

“He’s lactose intolerant!” Gerard called from the living room couch.

“Okay so not those…”

“I’m sorry,” Frank said quickly, anxiety gnawing away at his insides. He was starting to feel nauseous and was terrified that if he threw up it would be even more offensive since not only did he eat Donna’s food, dirty her dishes, and open her syrup bottle, but he would also _waste_ it upon getting sick. 

“It’s fine, Sweetie. We’ll find something—ah!” Donna grabbed a packet of red and green peppers from her fridge and then stepped over to the counter, digging around under bills and a pile of sales fliers to retrieve a nearly empty bag of potatoes. “This will work. Do you like peppers?”

“Yes,” Frank said, staring at the bag and swallowing hard. There would be enough to make food for the entire family as well as Frank but that was all. He felt so guilty using up another item of food and wished he could convince her to stop before she got angry. “I can help—I can…I can help you cook.”

“That’s not necessary, Frankie. Why don’t you and Gerard watch some TV?”

Frank looked doubtfully toward the couch in the living room and then back up at Donna. 

“I can help…” Frank repeated, moving a little closer to Donna. It was a risky move, but he doubted she would strike him the way his mother would if he pushed her too far.

“Well, if you want to, get me the knife out of the drawer—not that one, the other one—yes. Get that and then chop these up for me.” Donna handed him the packet of peppers and flashed him a smile before pulling out a plastic cutting board for him to use. “Don’t cut yourself.” 

Frank was careful to keep his hands away from the sharp edges and followed Donna’s instructions to clean the peppers and turn them into tiny little cubes while she peeled and diced the potatoes. As she combined all of the ingredients into a skillet and mixed them with salt and spices, Frank hovered close to her—going so far as to dare to wrap his arms around her waist and burry his face in her shoulder. 

It felt nice to be close to someone—someone who didn’t yell or hit—and he couldn’t help but smile now that the fear had fled him. Gerard was back asleep, Donna was patient and kind and happy to be cooking food for her family. It was safe here and warm, too. 

Even when Frank heard heavy footsteps coming down the stairs—Mikey’s father, a larger and intimidating man—Frank wasn’t worried. At least, not after he slid around to Donna’s other side to put as much space as was possibly between himself and the doorway where Mikey’s father would go. He doubted the man would say anything to him, but if he tried, Frank was sure Donna would keep him safe.


	12. Chapter 12

_Chapter 12_

Frank felt anxiety eating away at him as he watched his mother’s car pull into the driveway. He stood up from his seat on the porch steps and moved out of his mother’s way as she approached him. When she saw him, her lips curled in disgust and all of the good feelings Frank had remaining from his stay at Donna’s house slipped away. There was no affection here. No touching that didn’t hurt. No hugs. No standing close to his mother while she made dinner and expecting to get away unscathed if he brushed against her let alone held her. 

“Momma?” Frank said as he followed his mother into the house.

“Get upstairs,” his mother said, her voice little more than a sigh. 

Frank hesitated for a moment, watching his mom walk through their house. She seemed sad and he worried it was because he’d come home. Mikey said he could stay over tonight too if he wanted, but his mom said she would give him dinner if he came home. He thought she wanted him to come home…

“Get upstairs!” She shrieked when she saw he hadn’t moved. Frank flinched and hurried upstairs, closing his bedroom door behind him and sinking down on his bed. Maybe he should’ve stayed at Mikey’s… Maybe he shouldn’t have come back at all. 

His mom would probably be _happy_ if he never came home again. 

Frank started trembling when he heard his mother walking up the stairs. Even after she went into her bedroom to change, he was terrified she was going to come in to his room with her belt. He didn’t want punished. He didn’t think he’d done anything wrong to deserve a beating. 

He was practically in tears by the time he heard her door reopen. She scared him, now more than ever. She’d told him how much she hated him. And if she hated him, what was holding her back from _really_ causing harm?

He listened to her walk back downstairs after changing her clothes but felt no relief. The fear and anxiety was starting to make him nauseous and after two hours, when his mother finally called to him that it was time to come eat dinner, he had to fight to keep from throwing up. 

The whole meal she stared at him with dead eyes. The whole meal she reiterated how useless he was. How horrible he was. How stupid, how ugly, how unlovable he was. Frank had to stop eating several times because of the tears, too choked up to even apologize to her the way he always did. 

He wished she would’ve just taken her belt to him when she got home. He preferred to be struck physically over _this._ This drawn out emotional _torture._

“I’m surprised you could even find someone to take you in for a night. Don’t your friends know you’re a thief? Maybe I should check your book bag, Frank. What did you steal from _them,_ hu?”

“Nothing, Momma. I wouldn’t do that.”

“Oh? You won’t steal from _people_ but you’ll take from a store? I need to go shopping and I can’t take you with me, and I can’t leave you in my house—you’ll destroy the place.”

“No I won’t,” Frank said meekly. 

“Yes you will,” his mother spat. “You’re such an ungrateful little _demon._ I’ll leave you alone for five minutes and you’ll burn the place to the ground.”

“I can wait outside,” Frank whispered. 

“And have the neighbors call the cops on me!?”

“Momma…” He couldn’t understand. She’d _never_ been this awful before. It was as though everything were coming to a head now. She couldn’t hold back her anger or her hatred anymore and Frank knew it was going to end in a violent explosion if he didn’t do something to calm her, or escape her…or _leave_ her. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To see your own mother get put in jail. You’d like that?” Now she was crying and Frank didn’t understand why. He hadn’t _done_ anything.

“No, Momma. Please stop.”

“Yes, you would. You’re always trying to ruin me.”

“No, I’m not,” Frank whimpered. “I love you, Mom. I _love_ you. Don’t you believe me?” He made himself look her in the eye even though he knew what he would see there—coldness, hardness, hatred…

“You don’t have the ability to love anything. You’re a _devil._ You’re a _demon._ Your whole purpose in life is to destroy me.”

“No it’s not, Mom. I _love_ you. I don’t want to hurt you…”

She scoffed at him and Frank gave up, bowing his head and crying as his mother stared at him in disgust. He felt so weak in front of her; so pathetic and dejected. 

“Get out of my sight,” his mother said, shaking her head and pushing her own plate away from her as though having Frank in front of her ruined her appetite. “Go!”

Frank sobbed and stood up from the table. He hurried to his bedroom and closed the door tightly before flinging himself down onto his bed and clutching his pillow as he cried. The pain in his heart was so unbearable he was certain his heart was _literally_ break in two. With each pulse there came a dull throbbing in his chest followed closely by a stabbing pain that shot through him. 

With _every single pulse._

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard was working the Wednesday morning shift so he could more closely watch the cashier Chantal. She was an upper class girl whose parents forced her to take a job to teach her responsibility, but it wasn’t working and Gerard had gotten a great visual of exactly how Ray’s Spend N Save was losing two grand a month. 

The girl was intelligent, but at the same time so _stupid_ and predictable. She knew Gerard was there to catch thieves, and she knew that the employees were under as much scrutiny as the customers, but she still dared to steal right in front of him. Maybe she thought she wouldn’t caught, or maybe she thought Gerard would let her get away with it because she was young and cute and liked to wear low-cut polo shirts with her breasts pushed up and out over the trop. 

Too bad for her Gerard didn’t swing that way, and when he caught her ringing up large orders for her friends and then cancelling their transactions instead of having them pay, and then letting them walk out with their bags of stolen product he intended to call her out on it.

“Ray, come here for a second,” Gerard said as soon as he saw Chantal get a little too excited for a girl who came through her line. 

“What’s up?” Ray asked. Gerard shushed him and led him over to the computer that sat just behind the register terminals. 

“Watch her,” Gerard said, inclining his head toward Chantal. “But don’t stare—act like you’re busy.”

Sure enough, as Ray was looking over the computer screen, Chantal glanced over at them. As soon as she turned back around, Gerard nudged Ray’s shoulder and they watched as she cancelled the transaction and handed her friend the bags.

“Did she just—”

“Mhm,” Gerard hummed. He didn’t even have to move after that. Ray rushed over to the counter and stopped the girl from leaving and after a brief argument re-rang the order and made the girl pay. 

Though it was against policy for Ray to be processing transactions on Chantal’s drawer, Gerard said nothing as Ray finished ringing up the people in line until the store was practically empty. It was impressive to see Ray angry for once. The man was typically friendly and soft spoken, but when he saw himself and his store being taken advantage of, it struck a chord in him and he was really letting Chantal have it. 

“I can’t have you in this store if you’re letting people _walk out_ with our products! What were you even _thinking?_ ”

Of course, the girl didn’t answer. She was staring up at the ceiling trying to look unaffected but visibly close to tears from either embarrassment or shame. She wasted no time starting up the waterworks, however, when Ray told her on the spot that she was fired and needed to leave. 

“Please, Ray! I’m _really_ sorry. It’ll never happen again. I just—I just messed up. I hit the trans cancel button instead of cash and I didn’t want to make her stand there why I re-rang it all! _Please,_ Ray!” 

“This isn’t the first time you’ve done it. I know you’ve been sliding to other customers before—they’ve _told_ me about it. Now it’s time for you to own up and leave.”

Chantal kept complaining until Ray, for the first time Gerard had memory of, yelled at her—actually _yelled_ —and told her to leave. It was his job and his livelihood on the line as well, and he wasn’t about to let her steal it from him.

Gerard was proud of him, but knew he would be met with opposition once he spoke phase two of his plans for Chantal. 

“You did good,” Gerard said, patting Ray’s shoulder. 

“I have to call in another cashier,” Ray muttered, grabbing for the phone and dialing before Gerard could get another word in. It took a while to find a replacement since Ellen refused to work a split shift and the male cashier Tyler was reluctant to pick up more hours. As soon as he got Tyler to agree to come in, Gerard spoke up again.

“So…since I have about six recorded cases of Chantal stealing from the store since I’ve been here…We’re bringing a case against her for employee theft.”

“Good. Fine,” Ray said, shaking his head irritably. He wasn’t so much agreeing, but refusing to argue. Chantal’s failure reflected his failure as a manager and though he didn’t care to take legal action against anyone, he was fearful that refusal would just make Gerard come after him.

Gerard couldn’t help but smirk at the power trip it gave him. There he was, tiny compared to Ray, scrawny compared to Ray, but able to have him completely intimidated. In high school, Gerard had been jerked around by guys who were bigger than him, now the power was in his hands. 

In high school, prissy little bitches like Chantal used to make fun of him for whatever they could come up with. They teased him as though he were a girl they disliked. Somehow his feminine features made him one of their species, not good enough to join them but worthy of their constant jabs. 

Now Gerard had the power. He turned prissy little prom queens like Chantal into sniveling crybabies completely at his mercy. It wasn’t that he particularly liked to make people cry or to watch people cry, but sometimes it was just so _rewarding_ to know he’d given someone what they deserved. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Ever since he’d gone back home to his mother’s, Frank had been quiet. He was never the most talkative friend that Mikey had, but he was never the silent type. He always had something to say whether it was about a teacher or something he’d read. But now Frank was quiet, and as they sat together in the park after school, Frank was crying and wouldn’t say why. He didn’t have any fresh bruises or marks on his face and he didn’t seem to be in any pain, but he was sad.

“Are you hungry?” Mikey asked.

Frank shrugged and sniffled. The day before Mikey had offered him fruit cups and Frank had refused them, claiming he didn’t feel good. Mikey had taken them home and forgot to bring them back to the school. 

“I’ve got fruit cups at my house. Do you want to come over?” It was a stupid question because Frank never said yes when Mikey asked him over, but this time Frank’s eyes almost seemed to light up a little at the offer. “Yeah?” Mikey said.

Frank nodded quickly and Mikey helped him stand up from the grass, surprised when he noticed Frank limping when he hadn’t been earlier. He must’ve gotten the belt again, Mikey decided. His mother was vicious with it and Frank was always too embarrassed to admit he still got spanked at sixteen to confess when it happened to him. 

His limp went away as they walked back to Mikey’s house, and Mikey dared to believe that Frank almost looked happier by the time the home came into view. Maybe after staying the night he learned that he had nothing to worry about in coming over. 

Or maybe, Mikey thought when his mother stepped into the room at the sound of the door opening, Frank just liked his mom. 

“Oh, hi, Frank. I didn’t know you were coming over today,” she said, flashing a smile to Frank who walked timidly through the room at Mikey’s side. “Is everything alright?” She too seemed to notice that Frank was even more unhappy than usual. 

No sooner had she asked the question did Frank start sobbing. Mikey stood in shock as Frank started clinging to Donna and crying into her chest. She looked to Mikey for answers while wrapping her arms around Frank in a tight embrace, one of her hands stroking his hair as she coddled him. 

It left Mikey feeling uncomfortable and awkward. He’d brought Frank home to feed him, not have him cling to his mother and cry like a little kid. He understood that Frank was upset and probably in a lot of pain, but it was still uncomfortable to watch. His mother looked so confused and even though she was willing to let Frank cling to her, she never had been the most physically affectionate woman.

Even if Frank didn’t notice it, she wasn’t that happy to have him clutching onto her for dear life. She was as socially awkward as her sons and having a strange boy throwing himself against her had to be less than comfortable for her.

“Mikey…I had some clothes in the wash. Can you put them in the dryer for me?”

“Really?” Mikey asked, rolling his eyes and then going down into the basement before his mother could snap at him. Frank was his friend and she didn’t need to chase him away in order to get Frank talking. He wouldn’t say anything about his mom to her whether Mikey was in the room or not, but Mikey guessed she would have to learn that on her own.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank felt pathetic as he held onto her wept, but she was the only person in his whole world who let him close—physically close—and even if he knew it couldn’t help him, all he wanted was to be held. Just for a little while. It made him feel safer. Even if Donna didn’t know him and probably wouldn’t like him if she did, it made him feel _loved_ when she started smoothing his hair. 

That was all he wanted. Just a little bit of love—just scrap of affection. 

Yes, Mikey cared about him. Mikey was the closest thing to a brother that Frank had, but Mikey didn’t like Frank touching him. Especially not after the video had gotten circulated to the school. It was like even Mikey thought Frank was nothing but a filthy sodomite. To think that his best friend was about to leave him too made Frank’s heart break a little more. Every day his chest hurt, that dull ache and stabbing pain never leaving him after his mother had berated him at the dinner table all those days ago. 

Frank felt that he had nothing left in the world to live for. He wanted to die. He _wanted_ to die. He had no mother to love him, no friends…nothing. 

But when Donna led him into the kitchen and sat him down in a chair, he felt just a small bit better about the life he did have. She sat down in the chair beside him and kept an arm around his shoulders, letting him lean his head against her shoulder while she reassured him that it would be okay. 

It didn’t make the pain in his chest go away at all, but it put his mind at ease. He could relax just a little. Even when Mikey came into the room and passed him an almost angry glance, Frank couldn’t feel any worse than he already did. He didn’t want to lose his best friend, but he felt that fate had already been sealed when the video had gotten out. 

Mikey had lost his patience just like Frank’s mother had lost her patience. Donna would lose patience with him, too, but Frank was willing to take what he could get before that moment came. 

After a little while, Donna got up from the table and made Frank a small sandwich and poured him a glass of fruit juice. She made a plate for Mikey as well, but he ended up giving it to Frank, either not hungry or trying to apologize for getting so angry when Frank had started hugging his mother. Frank knew it made his best friend uncomfortable to have him so close to his mother, but he just couldn’t help it. It didn’t matter that he behaved as if he were six instead of sixteen—he was hurt and lonely, and Donna’s was the only affection Frank could get for free. He couldn’t let it go to waste. He _needed_ it.


	13. Chapter 13

_Chapter 13_

Gerard felt a pang of excitement hit him as soon as the group of three women walked into his store. They were a group he knew well—a group he knew stole a lot of product with each of their visits—but they were sly and cunning and he’d never been able to catch them in the act no matter how hard he tried. Every trick in the book, they had mastered. Since there were three of them, it was impossible to keep track of them all. Even if Gerard tried to follow them, he could only keep tabs on one at a time. Though he tried to recruit Ellen and Ray to follow the women sometimes, it was a futile effort. Ellen would be needed on register and couldn’t keep a close watch, and typically one of the women would ask Ray where to find something while the other wandered off and slipped something into her coat pocket. 

Divide and conquer just didn’t work with these women. Gerard needed someone else to help him. At least _one_ more person to follow those low-class broads around his store to bust them in the act. If he followed one and Ray was kept distracted by one and a third person was following the other, there was no way the women could get away with it one more time. 

Gerard was half tempted to call Mikey and tell him to get his ass to the store as quickly as possible to follow these bitches…but Mikey would be sure to take half an hour to show up and would probably blow the whole operation by whining about how he doesn’t want to do it…

Gerard scowled darkly at the women as they skulked in, one even daring to look him in the face and scowl back. They knew he was onto him, and they knew he could never catch them. Not with the forces he had at play.

“They really get you going, don’t they?” Ellen asked, smirking at Gerard as she made her way around the front counter. She didn’t need to be asked to pursue one of them. If she didn’t have a line at the register and those women were here, her job became tailing them. It didn’t do any good, though. They’d just wait for her to be called away and then stuff whatever was sight into their pockets and up their shirts. For them, stealing was about the rush—not about the goods. It didn’t matter what they took so long as they got something. 

The doorbell chimed again and Gerard groaned before turning to face it. More customers just meant more people to distract Ellen from her job of following the thieves around. 

But when his eyes laid upon the pair walking into his store, he felt his heart give a small leap. It was the demon Mrs. Iero and her helpless son. Gerard was surprised she was willing to show her face in his Spend N Save after he’d kicked her out the last time for beating Frank in the aisle. When she saw Gerard watching them she gave him a strange, almost friendly smile, and then clasped her hand down onto Frank’s shoulder—making the boy flinch and almost immediately begin trembling—and mumbled something that only he could hear. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Gerard could see one of the three women taking Ray aside asking about light bulbs and pretending she just couldn’t figure out where they were on her own. An elderly man was about to ring the bell at the counter meaning _two_ of the women would be running around unmonitored, slipping things into their coats. He could _not_ let that happen. 

“Listen, I _assure_ you my son is going to keep his hands to himself,” Mrs. Iero snapped as soon as Gerard began approaching her.

“I’m sure he will,” Gerard said disinterestedly. “I have a proposition for you—a _business_ proposition. Will you listen?”

“What the hell do you want?” Mrs. Iero asked, suddenly looking very bored and irritated, all of her false politeness going away. 

“Your son has stolen from my store countless times. You know it, I know it, _he_ knows it.”

“Fine. I’ll leave him in the car.” Immediately she turned to Frank and pushed him back toward the door. “Get out.” The shove wasn’t even hard but Frank almost lost his balance since he refused to take his hands out of the pocket of his hoodie. If he hadn’t just walked in, Gerard would’ve been certain he had something hidden there. 

“No. I need him in here,” Gerard said. 

“What for?” Mrs. Iero asked, her eyes going cold as she stared at Gerard, almost as if trying to intimidate him or simply get him to go away from her. 

“There are three women in this store right now who steal hundreds of dollars in products every time they come in,” Gerard said, keeping his voice low so the women couldn’t overhear. “Now my staff can’t watch all three people at once. I need a third person to follow one of these women so we can catch them and prosecute them. I will—I _personally_ —will give you ten bucks if you let me use your son to follow one of these people.”

“What, and have him get attacked by some drug-fiend psychopath? No.”

“He doesn’t have to confront anyone,” Gerard said, biting back the phrase ‘and I don’t see why you’d care if he did.’ This woman beat her child on a daily basis. Why would she care if some other lady attacked him? Because he was _her_ whipping boy? “He just needs to follow them _from a distance_ and tell me as soon as he sees them pocket a couple of things. You don’t even have to stay here the whole time. Just until he catches them take one or two things—enough for me to have reasonable suspicion to call them back in after they walk out and calls the cops on them.”

“No,” Mrs. Iero said, looking arrogant.

“I will pay you.”

“My son isn’t yours to _rent._ ”

“Fine,” Gerard said, feeling more hatred toward this woman than he thought possible. “Let me borrow your son or I’ll call CPS on you.”

“For what? Disciplining my child?”

“We have you on camera pulling your son up by his hair and hitting him until he got a nosebleed. Let me borrow him, or I’m giving the tape to Children Protective Services.”

She looked over at Frank and then seized him by the shoulder of his hoodie, using it to force him in Gerard’s direction.

“ _Fine,_ ” she hissed. She said nothing to Frank before grabbing a cart and walking away toward the aisles with it, and Frank said nothing at all during the entire ordeal or even after she was gone.

“You okay?” Gerard asked, looking around for one of the women. 

Frank shook his head no and shifted uncomfortably.

“I’m sorry, but I need you. So come here for a second.” Gerard tried leading him toward an aisle where the women had gone, but Frank didn’t move. His eyes looked dead and Gerard began to worry that maybe he should just call CPS after all. The kid was obviously broken. “Come on. I’ve got something in the back I’ll give you if you do this for me.”

Frank sighed and started to follow him, not so much enticed by the idea of a gift, but because he was giving in. Gerard mumbled softly to him about how to spy on the woman, what to look for and how to stay around without drawing her suspicion. As soon as he set Frank to following the youngest of the three women, Gerard hurried off to follow one of the others. Ellen was back on register and Ray was following the third woman around as she asked him about various products to keep him distracted. 

Gerard followed his target—the older woman who smelled as though she hadn’t bathed in months—hoping that if he kept enough distance between them that she would slip something into her coat thinking she was alone. But she was too clever for him. She sensed him watching her and kept her hands to herself. All the products she grabbed went into her blue shopping basket without a hitch. She was _used_ to having Gerard follow her. That was part of why he’d set Frank on the youngest of the three. That woman was probably only in her twenties and didn’t know to be suspicious of the short, sad, somewhat attractive Frank. She might be bold enough to steal right in front of him, right with his eyes on her. Frank didn’t look like a snitch, he looked like a thief. 

As Gerard followed his target around the aisles he had a fantasy that maybe the younger woman would abandon all reserve and start giving Frank tips on how to steal. Maybe they would steal together—Hell, Gerard didn’t care if Frank walked out with ten fruit cups in his pockets so long as he helped catch _one_ of these thieving bitches. 

But those fantasies all vanished when Gerard rounded the corner and found Frank standing at his mother’s side—almost close enough to touch her—in the next aisle. He didn’t want to get mad at Frank, but this was ridiculous! He offered him a chance to get money—maybe even something more—and the kid abandoned it to cling to his psychotic mother. 

After a moment of having Gerard stare at him, Frank finally looked up from the ground and then glanced at his mother who completely ignored his staring. Frank then took a timid step away from her and neared Gerard, looking back over his shoulder at his mother with almost every movement until she pushed her cart away out of the aisle. 

Frank seemed reluctant to get too close to Gerard and when he tried to whisper something, Gerard couldn’t catch what it was. He had to close the distance between them and noticed the way Frank leaned away from him as if afraid. It almost hurt to have Frank be that afraid of him—scared enough to pull backwards at his approach—when his mother assaulted him regularly and yet Frank clung to her side. 

“Did you see anything?” Gerard asked.

“She took…two boxes of pills and…”

“And?”

“Suntan lotion, I think.”

“Okay,” Gerard said, coaxing Frank to say more because it was obvious the kid knew something else.

“And a pack of CDs.”

“Those have security stickers on them,” Gerard said, smiling to himself because those CDs would beep when they were on their way out the door giving more than probable cause to bring her back inside. 

“She peeled it off. It’s stuck on the floor now. Can I go back to Momma?” He sounded like a ten-year-old and it disturbed Gerard to no end. Whatever his mother had done to him kept him trapped in the antics and nervousness of a small child. If someone ever described Frank’s behavior to him, Gerard would’ve guessed that he was six or seven—not sixteen, not a teenager. 

“Come here for a sec. I’ve got something in the back for you,” Gerard said, reaching out to pat Frank’s shoulder only to have the boy whimper and pull away.

“I want to go back to Momma. I don’t want anything.”

“It’s fine. Come here,” Gerard said again, not letting Frank worm away from him as he guided him to the back office. He paused when they walked past Ray—helping a different customer this time instead of one of the three women—and told him to call for him as soon as the ladies went to checkout. Ray nodded and then smiled at Frank who shied away from him as well, probably intimidated by his height—or his status as store manager. No young thief wanted to be in the company of authority.

“I didn’t take anything,” Frank whimpered as soon as Gerard had him alone in the back office. 

“I know,” Gerard said, glancing at the computer monitor on the desk that showed all the camera angles—checking to see where the women were. “Here.” 

Ray and Ellen had been forming a small stash of food they wanted to give Frank whenever he came into their store so he wouldn’t have to steal it. Most of it was fruit cups, but Ellen had added candies and small bottles of juice as well. Gerard handed one of the fruit cups and a plastic fork to Frank, but the boy refused to take his hands out of his pockets to accept it. 

“I don’t want any,” Frank mumbled. He cringed when Gerard tore the foil wrapper off the top of the plastic dish—making it clear that the food would go to waste if Frank didn’t take it—and then looked down at the floor, conflicted. “I… I can’t.”

“Come on. I’m not going to tell your mom and you need to eat. Just eat.”

“I don’t—”

“ _Eat._ ”

Shakily, Frank took his hands out of his hoodie pockets and reached for the cup. It was then that Gerard noticed the multiple, angry red lines covering his palms as if they’d been repeatedly struck with something sharp.

Frank whimpered when he finally took the fruit cup into his hand, even the slightest contact bringing him pain. In the end, the sting was too much for Frank to handle and he set the cup down on the desk. 

“Please, I really don’t want anything,” Frank said, tears forming in his eyes as he carefully slid his hand back into his pockets. 

“Let me see your hand,” Gerard said, not really giving Frank much of an option when he seized his wrist and started pulling. Frank resisted at first, but after letting out a cry of pain he let his arms go limp and Gerard was able to examine the marks on his palms. “What did she do to you?” He asked, gingerly unfolding Frank’s fingers and caressing one of the lines with his thumb. The marks were still fresh, not bleeding but oozing little beads of moisture from the broken skin. “Frank, what did she do?”

“Hit me…so I wouldn’t take anything,” Frank whispered. 

“What did she hit you with?” Gerard asked. The marks were too thin to have been caused by a belt or even a ruler or a cane. 

“Wire,” Frank said softly.

“A wire?” Gerard looked up in time to see Frank staring at the fruit cup on the desk. He kept swallowing hard as if he were about to be sick, but he kept chewing and licking his lips while maintaining a constant visual of the fruit. He was hungry, but he couldn’t hold the cup to feed himself. Not with his hands beat to hell. “Here. Sit down.”

“I need to go back to Momma,” Frank said. 

“No you don’t. Look.” Gerard pointed at the monitor where a camera showed Mrs. Iero comparing prices on laundry detergent. “She’s fine without you. Sit here.”

Slowly, Frank sank down into the chair and shifted his gaze to the floor instead of the fruit cup. Gerard pulled one of the plastic spoons out of the box next to the microwave and then sat in the chair beside Frank’s. He couldn’t believe he was actually about to sit here and hand-feed a sixteen-year-old the way he used to feed Mikey when they were both toddlers, but he wasn’t about to let Frank go home and starve to death. 

In all honesty, he wasn’t about to let him go home at all. 

“I don’t need you to feed me,” Frank said, turning his face away as soon as he realized what Gerard was offering to do.

“Shut up. You’re hurt, you’re hungry, and I already bought this for you. You’re eating it whether I have to feed you or not.”

“I’m not two! I can…I can hold it myself.” Frank took his hand out of his pocket and sized the spoon from Gerard, wincing only a little before finding a place in his hand where he could balance the plastic utensil without hurting himself. 

Gerard could tell it hurt him to bring the spoon up to his mouth, but said nothing about as Frank slowly scooped up mouthful after mouthful of fruit and juice. By the time Mrs. Iero was starting for the front counter, Frank had already eaten three of the fruit cups and had finished a bottle of the juice Ellen had bought for him. When he saw his mother nearing the checkout counter, he got up quickly from his seat and buried his hands back inside his pockets before staring at Gerard—waiting for him to open the office door. 

“Frank… Listen,” Gerard said, sighing heavily and looking from the monitor to Frank’s anxiety-creased face. “What she’s doing to you…it isn’t right. I don’t want to let you go home with her. I know she’s just going to hurt you.”

Frank looked at the monitor, his breathing coming a little faster as he saw his mother start placing her many items on the counter.

“I…I need to go up there. She’ll leave without me!” Frank looked helplessly from Gerard to the doorknob, knowing it would hurt him if he tried to open the door himself because of the lacerations on his palms. 

“Frank, I don’t _want_ you to go with her,” Gerard said, trying to sound sympathetic. “She…she beat your _hands._ You can’t even hold anything. I don’t want you going home with her.”

“She wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t steal from here,” Frank snapped. “Momma’s, not gonna hurt me if I don’t do anything wrong. And if you make her wait for me she’s going to get _mad!_ ”

Without giving Gerard any more consideration, Frank grabbed the doorknob to the office—choking out a cry of pain as he did—and hurried through the store. Gerard stayed behind in the office and sighed heavily. He really wished Frank weren’t so stubborn. All he wanted was to help him, and even foster care had to be better than what he was getting at home. 

Gerard could still call… He could call them and report Mrs. Iero whether she and Frank were still in the store or not. If she didn’t know to expect CPS, she couldn’t kill Frank before they arrived. In fact, they might catch her in the act of beating him.

As they were walking out the doors, Gerard caught Mrs. Iero slapping Frank on the back of the head hard enough that the boy faltered as he stepped out into the parking lot. She had him carrying bags as well even though his hands were split open and oozing.

Gerard looked away from the monitor and shook his head. 

Frank was a good kid. She had no right to be treating him that way…


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry--so sorry. So very, very sorry.

_Chapter 14_

Frank moaned softly, trying to be as quiet as he possibly could knowing his mother was in the next room and could wake at any moment to overhear him. He’d tried to talk himself down and _ignore_ his little problem, but the feeling—the need—just became more and more intense until he finally reached down and stroked himself through his pajama pants. A few fragmented images stayed in his mind from the dream he’d been having. 

He’d been back in the managerial office of the Spend N Save with Gerard, but instead of walking out when he saw his mother at the checkout counter, Frank stayed. He left out all the parts where Gerard told him his mother was cruel. Instead, Gerard kept feeding him fruit cups and then started petting Frank’s hair until he leaned in for a kiss. Frank kissed him back and that was when Gerard slid his hand down the front of Frank’s pants.

As soon as that initial contact was made, Frank’s eyes snapped open and he was awake, cutting the dream short. Though the images stopped playing out in his brain, Frank’s body was still ready to keep the dream going and no amount of fidgeting caused his straining erection to go down. Frank had no choice but to give himself a few gentle strokes, and when the touch got him more excited, Frank slipped his hand into the front of his pants to wrap his fingers around the base of his erection. 

He squeezed his fist just enough to add pressure and slowly worked his hand up and down, running his palm over the leaking head to smear the precum down his length to lessen the rough friction. His cheeks burned with shame as the pleasure washed over him. He felt ashamed of himself for giving into the sinful need, felt guilty and wrong for thinking of his dream—of Gerard, his best friend’s older brother—as he worked his hand up and down. 

Frank thought of what it might feel like to have Gerard’s hand wrapped around him. His mind kept coming up with little phrases Gerard might whisper in his ear and Frank felt another small moan slip out of his mouth. 

Maybe Gerard would say little words of praise. Maybe he’d say, “Frankie, you look so good. Do you like this? Does it feel good?” And then Gerard would kiss his neck maybe… Or his ear.

Or maybe Gerard would go a little lower and suck him into his mouth.

Frank’s noises became choked and fluttery as he swirled his thumb around the tip, imagining that it was Gerard’s tongue. All the thoughts of shame and guilt left him for the moment as his back arched off the mattress and let out a shrill, pleased noise. He tried hard to keep quiet, but it was so early it was still dark out—surely his mother wasn’t awake yet. It was okay if he just…gasped a little. 

Gerard would probably like it…

Yeah, Frank bet Gerard would like it a lot to hear the noises Frank would make for him. 

Not a second after Frank felt the muscles of his abdomen tightening and he was cumming hard into his hand, his bedroom door was thrown open so hard the doorknob smacked against the opposite wall and stuck there, dented into the drywall. 

Frank froze, all of his euphoria and pleasure draining from his body to be replaced with fear and tension. It was an awful mix of sensations, pain and the aftershocks of ecstasy, all tightening his stomach until they formed a tight knot. He didn’t know what to fear most, his mother’s cold expression or the folded over belt in her hand. 

“M-Momma,” Frank stammered, trying to think of a way he could move so she couldn’t tell what he was doing, so he could get his hand out of his pajama pants in the least noticeable way possible. It was a wasted effort though. She’d heard. She’d _seen._

“Take your hand out of your pants…now.” She stared at him in that evil, frigid way and Frank obeyed, trying to keep his hand out of sight so she wouldn’t see the slick, shiny cum smeared all over it. 

“Momma, I—”

“I don’t want to hear it, Frank,” she said. “I’ve told you not to do that. I’ve told you not to _ever_ do that and you don’t listen.” Her voice was void of all emotion—not even disappointment or anger coming through now. She didn’t need to voice anger, Frank could see it in her eyes. “Take your pants off.”

“Mom!”

“Take off your pants.”

“Wh…why?” Frank stammered, looking from her to the wall and then back. 

“Do as I say.”

“No,” Frank whispered.

“Do not make me do it for you.”

“Mom, please just…go away!” Frank tried to pull his blankets protectively around himself, simultaneously wiping the semen off of his hand and onto the sheets. 

“You do _not_ tell me to go away. I own this house. I pay for this house. I can be wherever I want to be. Now take off your pants and open your legs.”

“Mom, wh-what are you talking about?” Frank felt his heart rate pick up even more, knowing exactly what his mother had planned and desperate to find a way to get out of it. She’d struck him between the legs before, but never with so much intent. In the past it always seemed like an afterthought—and she never asked him to take off his pants and expose himself. She hated the sight of him, why would she ever want to see more of his skin than she had to? “Mom, don’t! Don’t! _Momma!_ ” 

Frank’s screams became shrill as his mother closed the distance between them and pulled his blankets away. She got her fingers around the hem of his pajama pants and when Frank tried to resist her, she pulled back long enough to strike him across the face with the belt in her other hand before going back to her work. 

He tried to keep his legs pressed together, even after she’d managed to pull his pajama pants down to his knees, but when she struck at him again and again with the belt he had no choice but to obey and expose himself, knowing she was going to make it worse and worse until he complied and let her do as she pleased. 

Frank was already in tears before the first stinging blow landed on the sensitive flesh of his groin still slick with the remnants of is arousal. His mother hissed in disgust with each blow, as if she were being forced to do it rather than coming to the decision on her own.

“If you just behaved I wouldn’t have to,” she said, sounding as if she were in pain instead of Frank. “Why can’t you just _listen?_ I’ve told you it’s a sin—I told you what would happen.”

“Please stop,” Frank cried one hand fisted in his own hair and the other feebly trying to protect himself from the rain of blows. Whenever his hand got in the way, his mother would strike it as well and wouldn’t miss the opportunity to hit his exposed penis every time he drew back his hand from the pain. “Momma, I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I won’t—I won’t do it again! Please, _please!_ ”

But she didn’t stop, not for what felt like hours. She kept his legs spread with threats of more pain and if Frank did close them she would strike his knees or thighs again and again until he returned to the position she wanted.

When she finally finished, Frank could no longer even speak to cry out or scream. He merely whimpered and sobbed, lying still with his legs spread even after she dropped the belt to the floor and had turned to leave. 

“Don’t make me do that again, Frank. That…that was shameful. Don’t make me…Don’t _ever_ make me do that again.”

“I’m sorry,” Frank whimpered, knowing his mother couldn’t possible have heard him or understood what he said through his tears. 

When he heard his bedroom door close, Frank moaned in pain and rolled into his side, curling himself into a protective ball. Not only did he hurt where she had struck him, his stomach hurt too from the tension. Frank slowly reached his hand down between his legs, trying to comfort himself with a soft touch and make up for his inability to protect himself from the blows. But even the gentlest of contact sent sparks of pain up his spine and when Frank finally dared to glimpse down at himself he gasped when he saw droplets of blood. 

He didn’t have long to stare in shock. His mother shouted up the stairs at him, her voice trembling slightly, and told him to get ready for school and that she was going to make him breakfast. 

Frank tried to hold in his noise of pain as he forced himself to get up from the bed to get dressed. He stayed hunched over, his stomach still cramped and his groin still pulsating and stinging from the awful, repeated strikes. After pulling on his clothes, Frank went into the bathroom and washed his hands before trying to relieve his bladder but finding himself in too much pain to make it possible. Instead, he fell to his knees in front of the toilet and started throwing up even though his stomach was mostly empty. 

He was so caught up in his misery he hadn’t noticed the bathroom door opening behind him and didn’t realize his mother was in the room until he felt a hand running down his back. 

“M-Momma,” he stammered, trembling and shying away from her touch. He hadn’t had the chance to tuck himself back into his jeans before throwing up and was afraid she would seize the opportunity to land a few extra blows to his exposed skin. 

“Hush. Come here.” She started pulling him up by his shoulders and forcing him to stand up straight despite the pain of his cramps forcing him to double back over almost as soon as she let him go. “You need to go downstairs now. I made you breakfast.” 

She looked away as Frank slowly, shakily, redid the fly on his jeans and then slowly pushed him toward the door.

With each step he took, the pain seemed to triple, and once he heard his mother’s bedroom door close as she changed for work Frank sank down at the middle of the stairs to rest. He didn’t care if she came out five minutes later and caught him. There was no other way for her to hurt him now and he almost wished she would just push him down the stairs. 

But his mother didn’t come and Frank started to hear the sound of her voice on the other side of her bedroom door. She was on the phone again with her mother.

“Mother, I didn’t _mean_ to! He _made_ me!”

Frank let out a low huff and found himself glaring at her door through his tears. Made her? He _made_ her do it? Did she have any idea what she’d done? Did she know how bad it _hurt?_ It was more than physical. It was the worst thing she’d ever done to him.

“Mother, I don’t know what to do. I _hurt_ him. I never meant to _hurt_ my child.”

She was crying. Her voice had become shrill and Frank felt pity begrudgingly take over his anger and resentment. For the first time, she was crying _for_ him and not just from the sight of him. She was sorry. She’d never been _sorry_ before.

“I just wanted to scare him so he wouldn’t _do that._ I never meant… Well _I_ never did that when I was his age! _Never!_ It’s _sinful!_ ” She paused for a long moment as her mother spoke to her. “Well I don’t know what to do. I made him _breakfast._ ” She said it as though she thought it was an acceptable apology—food to apologize for a vicious beating. “I know! Mother, I _know!_ I didn’t mean to _hurt him…_ I never meant to hurt him. That’s my son.” Her voice became shrill and even more tearful as she repeated it, “He’s my son.”

She’s just sick, Frank told himself as he made his way slowly down the stairs to the kitchen. She’s sick. Though the thoughts may have forced him to justify what she’d done, it didn’t make the pain any less as he sat down to a plate of scrambled eggs with chopped peppers and even sprigs of herbs mixed in. 

She really was trying to apologize. Typically food she made just for him was bland and simple. And this was all for him. The skillet was empty and his plate was piled high with a portion large enough for two people. 

Frank forced himself to eat every bite even though his stomach was still tight and hurting. He listened for his mother, but couldn’t hear her making any motions to come back downstairs. She stayed upstairs long past the time she was supposed to go to work and Frank made the decision to leave to go to school on his own without her prompting. 

However, the pain only worsened the more he walked and Frank couldn’t see himself sitting through school like this. The teachers would know something was wrong and they’d call his mother who was still a wreck and she might get angrier—or they just might stop asking questions all together and take him from her and put her in jail. 

The pain made it hard to think, and all Frank wanted was a place to curl up and hide—to disappear or maybe find comfort. If he hadn’t already started in the wrong direction, Frank would’ve gone to Donna’s house. She was kind and loving. If anyone could make him feel better, it would be her. 

But Frank didn’t want to turn around and walk another eight blocks the opposite way. The only other safe place Frank could think of was the store where Gerard worked. If he could get to Gerard, maybe Gerard would take him home and he could be with Donna without having to walk. 

Before he could get that far though, his stomach started to tighten and he had to stop moving. Even standing became unbearable and Frank sank down to his knees on the sidewalk, clutching his stomach and sobbing. His stomach hurt so badly, a sharp bolt of pain shooting up from his groin to his navel. Sobbing, Frank lowered one of his hands from his stomach to clutch himself between the legs, hoping that somehow he could soothe the ache but only succeeding in adding more when his touches added pressure to his abrasions. 

Why had his mother done this? She’d never done anything like this before and Frank was scared she’d caused actual damage. The pain wasn’t staying outside his body, it was inside too—in his muscles which kept tightening and sending more sparks through his abdomen until he laid down on the sidewalk on his back. 

He stayed there for over an hour, hoping and fearing at the same time that someone would walk past and help him but no one did. Cars went by, a man on a bicycle rode in the grass just to avoid him, and people crossed the street to avoid coming near him as he lie clutching his stomach. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Ray heard the doorbell, but when he looked there was no one in the store. It wasn’t uncommon for a customer in a hurry to dip out of sight, but the store was eerily quiet since the corporate issued CD had stopped playing and Ray couldn’t bring himself to press play on the CD player and hear that awful one hour loop of bad music again. He was running register for the morning shift alone with Ellen set to come in at nine and Gerard scheduled to pop in at any second.

He had a feeling that it would be just like the stuck-up Loss Prevention Officer to sneak in and try to catch Ray in the act of doing something wrong. Gerard did a lot of good for the company—what with catching the three biggest thieves the store had ever seen two weeks ago, with Frank’s help as well which was pretty impressive—but he was still an asshole. If he did his job with any bit of empathy or consideration for the people he busted, it would be different. But Gerard seemed to get a sick rush from catching the thieves and watching the cops take them away. 

Ray’s suspicions were further piqued when he heard the soft jingling of bells as the door to the back store room was pushed open. He turned in time to see the metal doors swinging back and forth but didn’t catch a glimpse of whomever had gone into the back. 

_Had_ to be Gerard, Ray thought. _Had to be._

The only thing in the back for Gerard, though, would be the employee bathroom. Loss prevention had no business messing with the boxes of stock that had yet to be placed on the shelves. If Gerard had rushed in fast enough to get to the bathroom without being seen, Ray really didn’t want to go back there to find out what was wrong, but after waiting for twenty minutes to hear the jingling of the bells indicating that the door was reopened Ray lost his patience. 

If it was a customer and not in fact Gerard back there, that person could’ve caused a lot of damage and it would be a massive issue with the insurance company if someone knocked over a bunch of boxes and got hurt.

He made his way to the back of the store and stepped into the storeroom. The bathroom was on the left and Ray felt his stomach tighten when he saw that the bathroom door was still open. 

“Hello?” He called. He looked around quickly, but couldn’t see anyone. It didn’t help that the area was still crowded with six-wheelers and U-boats full of freight. “You can’t be back here,” Ray said. He’d seen a lot of horror movies, and though he’d never seen one start quite like this, they did typically involve an employee all alone. His brain tried to tell him that it was just a cross-breeze that made the back doors drift open, but deep down he knew that wasn’t true—just like he knew he couldn’t let a customer wander around his storeroom stealing whatever they wanted.

Gerard would like that a little _too much._

Ray moved through the stacks of boxes and packed six-wheelers, trying to catch a glimpse of whoever was in the room with him. He was halfway through the cramped and narrow aisle way when he heard the bells on the storeroom doors jingling again. He whipped around and tried to get back to the doors, wanting to catch whoever was fleeing him, but came face-to-face with Gerard instead.

“What the hell are you doing? The front of the store is completely unmanned.”

“There’s someone back here,” Ray whispered, not sure why he was trying to keep it a secret. Whoever was hiding out knew Ray was looking for him and no amount of secrecy would change that.

“Yeah, _you’re_ back here,” Gerard said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Very funny,” Ray spat. “Seriously, though. Someone came back here. Now are you gonna help me find them or are you going to stand there being… _bitchy._ ”

“Excuse me?” Gerard snapped, one of his eyebrows shooting up as he pursed his lips. 

“You heard me,” Ray said. 

“I’m a _corporate official!_ ”

“You’re wasting time. Help me find this person and then you can write me up or whatever you do when people call you names.”

“Fine,” Gerard hissed, rolling his eyes before forcing his way through the rows and rows of freight. “You should really be putting these along the walls—”

“The walls are full,” Ray snapped. “We don’t have enough people to put out all this stuff.”

“You really need to—”

“How about you do your job and I do mine? You’re Loss Prevention, not the Spend N Save Nazi.”

“Ray, there’s nobody back here.”

“I’m telling you, _somebody_ came back here!”

“Well there’s not—oh, shit.” Gerard stopped after reaching the end of the aisle, staring at the base of the back wall. There was a steel table pressed against the wall, cluttered with all sorts of broken debris and blocked off by a chain of recalled metal carts that had never been sent back to corporate for proper disposal. 

“What is it?” Ray asked, not seeing what Gerard was staring at. There was no one back here and Ray didn’t see anything that went against one of corporate’s stupid, strict policies. 

Then Gerard tilted his head and pointed to the corner, where the edge of the steel table was met by a stack of recalled metal carrying baskets that went with the carts. Curled under the table, mashed against the baskets, was Frank. 

Ray felt dread the moment he spotted him, afraid he had come to find a place to hide in order to come out later and steal whatever he could get his hands on and maybe even try to sneak out the back door. But upon closer inspection, he realized Frank’s face was completely red and tear-stained, a dark bruise forming under one of his eyes. He’d come here to hide. Ray didn’t know why he’d come _here_ to hide of all the places he had to have known, but when Frank saw Gerard he started sobbing. The noise of it broke Ray’s heart and he turned to Gerard.

“I’m calling,” he said, softly so Frank wouldn’t have to hear. 

“Just…Not yet. Just give me a minute,” Gerard said, looking at Frank with pity.

“I’m _calling._ This shit needs to stop.”

“We’ll call,” Gerard said, just as quietly as Ray. “Just let me do it. Give me a minute.” Before Ray could say anything else, Gerard moved over to get as close to the table as he could and stooped down. Frank didn’t even pull away from him. He just sat there crying and shaking as Gerard shushed him and eventually reached out to touch his cheek. 

“Hey… That looks like it hurts,” Gerard murmured, running his thumb gently over the bruise under Frank’s eye. “Are you okay?”

Frank shook his head and let out a choked, pitiful sound.

“It really hurts,” he whispered, his voice completely broken up by his tears. 

“Your eye hurts?” Gerard asked. 

Frank shook his head and then started crying harder.

“Okay—it’s okay. What hurts? I’ll get you help. Just tell me what hurts.”

Frank squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. Gerard hummed softly and reached up to stroke Frank’s hair instead of his cheek. 

“Do you wanna come out?” Of course, Frank shook his head. “Okay, you gotta come out from there. You can’t be back here. Come here.”

Ray was surprised that when Gerard opened his arms into a receiving gesture, Frank crawled out—squeaking in pain as he did—and collapsed against Gerard’s chest. At first, Gerard stiffened and Ray was fearful he might try to push the boy away from him, but then he relaxed enough to wrap Frank up in a hug and even rubbed his back in attempt to soothe him. 

“You should go back up front,” Gerard said, turning to Ray while still keeping Frank wrapped up in his arms. 

“I’m calling—”

“Not right now. I’ve got this. Go.”

Ray couldn’t help but glare at him. If Gerard thought for one second that he was going to let Frank go home after this just because Frank begged him not to tell the cops, he had another thing coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Her attack on Frank is not something I randomly decided to throw in just to completely demonize her or for pure shock value. It serves to show the depth of her depravity, yes, but it also shows her resentment toward men, maleness, and even sex/intimacy in general since (in her mind) her sexuality was used against her to make her have a child she did not want. Though her remorse over her actions is OBVIOUSLY too little, too late, it is meant to indicate that deep down she knows it's not Frank's fault for anything she feels toward him and that she knows she has allowed herself to cross a line she never should have approached.
> 
> Her actions also set the stage for an issue I really want to explore in this fic (that also kind of sets the tone for Frank and Gerard's future relationship) which is anxiety of intimacy/sex based in shame and fear. There is nothing worse for relationship development than having one's sexuality shamed/stolen from them. ((Time to exercise some of my own demons))
> 
> All that being said, please do not kill me. I SWEAR it gets better for Frank from here! (Physically, at least. Psychologically...that's another story.)


	15. Chapter 15

_Chapter 15_

Frank felt absolutely pathetic as he cried into Gerard’s chest, but the pain radiating through him was so intense that he couldn’t stop himself—neither from weeping nor clinging to the other man. Even if he felt embarrassed to be in Gerard’s presence after having been caught stealing from his store, it wasn’t enough to make him restrain himself. Right now all he could focus on was the sheer _agony_ he was in and his need for comfort and to feel protected. The school would call his mother soon, either at work or at home, and she would know he’d skipped class and she would come looking for him. Frank knew she wouldn’t find him here, but the mere thought that _maybe_ somehow she would left him petrified.  
She couldn’t get to him if Gerard kept him safe.

“Frank, you need to tell me what hurts,” Gerard said. He was rubbing Frank’s back and the small gesture did more for the boy than Gerard could ever possibly have imagined. It made him feel that the hug wasn’t forced—like Gerard didn’t want to let go or push him away. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”

Frank wanted to tell him, but it was humiliating and degrading. There was nothing Gerard could do to help him, and he was afraid if he even managed to swallow enough of his pride to confess where his mother had struck him Gerard might just laugh and turn him away—or be repulsed and tell him to get out and never come back. 

“You gotta tell me,” Gerard said, squeezing Frank a little tighter before letting go of him and pushing him back by his shoulders so he could look at his face. “You were holding your stomach earlier—does that hurt?”

That was much easier to admit to so Frank nodded quickly. His response earned him another hug and he _swore_ he felt Gerard press a kiss to the top of his head though he couldn’t tell what that small, brief moment of pressure really was. 

“Did she hit you in the stomach?”

Frank shook his head no and but Gerard couldn’t tell what the gesture was since Frank had his face pressed so tightly against his chest. 

“You have to talk to me. Did she hit your stomach?”

“No,” Frank cried. “But it hurts. Really bad.”

“Okay. Shit… Did you—Did she feed you something? Did you eat something before the pain started?”

“No,” Frank said. His mother hadn’t poisoned him, and were he not in the most excruciating pain of his life he would’ve gotten angry at Gerard for thinking his mother was cruel enough to murder him. He _used_ to believe his mother never meant to hurt him—she would strike at him, but only because she was frustrated and he was in the way—now he knew better. She hated him and she hurt him to prove it. 

“Okay. Why does your stomach hurt?”

“It’s cramping,” Frank said, struggling through his tears. Every few seconds the pain pulsated and got that much stronger—it wasn’t just his stomach and his groin, it was his chest, too. That ache in his heart that came with every pulse hadn’t left him since it first appeared over two weeks ago—after his mother sat across the table from him and told him everything she hated about him. 

“Why is it cramping?” Gerard asked softly. His tone was so gentle and patient. To Frank it seemed that everyone in Mikey’s family was wonderful and merciful. Sometimes Mikey could be mean and short-tempered, but he was always Frank’s best friend. Donna was an angel and Frank _loved_ her for every small thing she’d done for him the few brief times they’d met. Even Mikey’s dad was nice even if he was just polite. And now Gerard, who knew what a disgusting, low, thieving creature Frank was held him close and comforted him when he had no reason to be even remotely kind. “Frank, you need to tell me so I can help. I know you’re in a lot of pain but we can get it taken care of if you just talk to me. What happened?”

“She hit me,” Frank cried, holding onto Gerard tighter as the pain skyrocketed. “She hit me really hard!”

“Okay—okay,” Gerard said, rubbing Frank’s back a little more firmly. Even he was starting to sound panicked and it was so unusual to Frank to have someone worry about him. At first he’d thought Gerard would ask just so he would know if Frank needed a hospital and if not would ask him to leave or take him to school to see the nurse. Now he wondered if Gerard really wanted to help. Was it safe to tell Gerard? 

Frank would never _ever_ confess why his mother started hitting him that morning, but maybe if he did admit where she struck him he might get more pity from Gerard instead of disgust or resentment. 

“Frankie, come on. I can’t help if you don’t tell me. What happened?” Gerard shifted around so he was sitting on the floor instead of kneeling, and he placed his feet on either side of Frank’s body and kept his knees up and bent—completely encasing Frank with his limbs. 

It was the closest to another human being Frank had ever been. He felt safe and guarded. No one else could hurt him. Not with Gerard here. 

“She came in my room and had the belt,” Frank said, his voice shaking despite his efforts to gain composure. Every time he thought he had his crying under control, the next wave of pain would come. 

Gerard said nothing. He kept rubbing Frank’s back and every now and then that pressure to the top of Frank’s head would return, either Gerard resting his chin on top of his head or kissing him.

“She… _Ow…_ ” Frank didn’t want to remember it. The pain kept getting worse and worse and it was hard to speak without his words turning into screams. It was humiliating, it was _shameful_ to confess what she’d done, but Frank was scared that if he didn’t say that Gerard wouldn’t help him and it would get worse. Frank didn’t know what was wrong, but he didn’t want to die like this. “She made me take off my pants and hit me.”

“Where?” 

“I don’t want to say,” Frank said before collapsing back into sobs. Gerard let out sharp sigh—a huff of disbelief—and just as Frank began to fear that Gerard was going to shove him away in complete and utter revulsion, Gerard started holding him that much tighter. He even squeezed his knees against Frank’s sides as Frank cried into his chest. 

“Okay, um… Fuck—okay. Listen, Frank, this could be…really serious or just really painful and nothing to worry about, but…you need to get it checked out. Okay?”

“I know,” Frank cried. 

“If I take you to the hospital, I’m gonna have to tell them that your mom did this to you. Okay?”

“Okay,” Frank sobbed. He’d kept her secret so long and would’ve kept it _forever_ for her had she not done _this._ Didn’t she know how much he loved her? He tried his best to prove it, but nothing helped. She _hated_ him. She hated _everything_ about him and proved it every day even before that awful morning, and _still_ Frank pitied her.

“So…this is what I’m gonna do, okay? I’m gonna call my mom so she can come with us. It might look suspicious if some older guy brings you in to the ER with…injuries like this. Is that okay? If my mom takes you in?”

“I like Donna,” Frank cried. They were the only words he could muster since the rest of him—or what wasn’t reeling in pain—was mortified at the thought that Donna would see him like this and _Donna_ would know what his mother had done. 

Gerard laughed a little and that pressure returned to the top of Frank’s head. 

“I know you do. She likes you, too.” Gerard started to pull away and Frank whimpered. “It’s okay—I’m getting my phone.” Frank felt Gerard’s breath move strands of his hair as the words were spoken, and when he felt that gentle pressure on the top of his head again Frank _knew_ it was a kiss. No one _ever_ kissed him. _Ever._

Frank kept his arms wrapped around Gerard’s back, squeezing him tighter with each wave of pain. He really needed to use the bathroom but he knew how badly it was going to hurt if he tried, but holding it was making his cramping worse and Frank felt that no matter what this agony and humiliation would never end. 

“Ma, I need you to come to the store…and get Frank.” Gerard rubbed Frank’s back with his free hand as spoke to his mother on the phone. “No, he needs…he needs to go to the hospital. Yeah I think it’s kind of serious. He’s in a lot of pain… I’ll—Ma, I’ll tell you when you get here… _No._ I’ll tell you when you get here. Okay? Alright. I’ll see you soon.” When he hung up, Gerard immediately unwound himself from Frank’s body and made Frank let go of him. “You need to stand up and we’ll go wait in the break room, okay? You can’t be back here. It’s not safe.”

“Don’t want to move,” Frank cried.

“Come on. You got all the way here, you can take a few more steps.” The words were meant more for encouragement, but it was still hurtful. Gerard had no idea how much pain Frank was in and taking even the smallest of steps was excruciating. “Come on. I’ll help.”

“Please don’t,” Frank cried when Gerard started trying to pull him up by his shoulders. “No! _No!—Ow!_ Stop it!”

Frank fell away from him, curling himself into a ball on the concrete floor. It hurt his groin to be in the tight position, but it made the cramping in his stomach feel a little bit better. 

“Frank, you can’t…you can’t be lying down back here.”

“I can’t move!” Frank sobbed. “It hurts!” He turned to look up at Gerard, seeking more pity and afraid to see anger or impatience. Gerard just looked confused and uncertain.

“I can’t carry you. Please. We’ll move a little at a time. Okay?”

Frank gave in and started sobbing frantically as Gerard _forced_ him onto his feet. The pain was much worse now and he needed more time to gather the strength to move on his own. He’d laid on the sidewalk for over an hour trying to recuperate. Twenty minutes wasn’t enough—especially not with his bladder and kidneys hurting too now—but Gerard made him walk through the piles of boxes back toward the metal doors that led back into the store. 

Frank tried pulling away from Gerard at that point. He didn’t want a customer to walk past and see him and think of how disgusting he was—sniveling and crying like a baby, unable to even hold himself upright. 

“What? Do you need the bathroom?” Gerard asked when Frank pulled out of his grip. The small employee bathroom was next to the swinging double doors and Frank looked at it in consideration. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt this time since the wounds weren’t so fresh. Maybe if he could just _go_ all the pressure in his abdomen would leave and the cramping would stop.

Frank nodded and made himself stumble into the dark, dirty room. It was as if this bathroom hadn’t been cleaned in ages and Frank’s stomach churned at the sight of it even before Gerard turned the light on for him.

“I’ll wait here, okay? The lock is broke, but no one’s gonna come in on you. Okay?”

Frank nodded again and watched as Gerard shut the door for him. Carefully, Frank made himself step over to the toilet and lifted the lid, surprised to find the toilet to be the only clean fixture in the room. He whimpered as he undid the fly of his jeans and took several moments to compose himself before daring to lower his jeans and take himself out.

His breath caught in his throat when he saw the blood smeared on his length. He tried to touch himself, just to see if he could find any wound that looked more severe than blood. 

Knowing the pain would just become worse as soon as he tried to relieve himself, Frank reached for a paper towel from the dispenser and wetted it in the sink, constantly letting out moans of pain as he moved in the tiny bathroom. 

The stinging pain as he wiped the blood off his member blotted out his cramping. He couldn’t see anything too serious. The skin was reddened and enflamed, but all the blood seemed to have come from tiny little cuts—many tiny little cuts. 

Taking a shaking breath, Frank forced the hem of his boxers a little lower so he could see the rest of himself—and completely lost his composure when he saw how badly the skin was discolored. He couldn’t bring himself to touch it or clean it—or even _look_ at it. He replaced the hem of his boxers just so he didn’t have to see it anymore and then took a deep breath before stepped back up to the toilet. 

After a moment of trying, Frank gave up and rethought his approach. He could barely stand up straight and it would be better if he just sat down. Trying hard not to look at himself, afraid to see more blood and bruising, Frank lowered his jeans and slowly sat down, he tried to focus on relieving the pressure in his bladder and after several moments was able to force out a slow stream.

The pain tripled—ripping through his stomach and making it tighten more and more until he screamed.

“Frank? Are you…do you need help?”

Frank couldn’t answer. He kept all of his concentration on voiding his bladder in a desperate attempt to get one of his many aches to stop. If he could just do _this,_ if he could get through this agonizing pain for just a few seconds longer, maybe the cramping would go away. 

His entire body was shaking by the time he finished and Frank struggled to keep himself composed. Donna was coming, he reminded himself. He didn’t want her to come in and see him this way—this vulnerable. 

If he could take just _a little more pain_ he could stand up and tuck himself back into his jeans, and then go to the staff office. Just a _little more,_ he told himself. 

By the time he’d gotten up, fixed his clothes, and washed his hands he was in hysterics again. He was close to hyperventilating and the only thing keeping him from going into a full-blown panic attack was Gerard’s soft muttering on the other side of the door—telling him it was okay, he was going to get taken care of, the pain would stop.

Frank was about to leave the bathroom when he realized he forgot to flush the toilet. He stepped back over to the toilet, whimpering in pain as he did, and then started gagging when he saw that the water had turned bright red. He covered his mouth with one hand and pushed the plunger down with the other, but even after the water was clear again the nausea remained and Frank sank down to his knees and started vomiting. 

That was the last thing he remembered.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank had stayed unconscious until he was placed in the backseat of Donna’s SUV. Ray had carried him easily, claiming Frank hadn’t weighed anything at all, but the moment his head hit the cushion of the seat Frank sat up and started crying in pain again. Donna tried to shush him, but Frank couldn’t be consoled. Even when Gerard got into the backseat with him, Frank just screamed and cried—and then threw up again which caused him to hyperventilate and pass back out. His last words before falling unconscious were apologies for “ruining” her car.

It filled Donna with even more rage and disgust. Gerard told her what the woman had done to Frank, and hearing that sweet boy—who only ever spoke _well_ of his mother except to say she was sick—apologize for throwing up from pain made Donna thirst for blood. That woman deserved to be beaten. She deserved to have _her_ sex assaulted. She deserved to have her womb ripped out and _fed to her._

If Donna could find a way to keep the woman alive while doing it, with God as her witness she would!

Frank was still unconscious by the time he was admitted to the ER, but woke up when the first needle was stuck in his arm. Donna expected him to flinch or at least ask what was happening, but Frank woke up silently and just watched as the needle pierced his skin. 

The nurse told him it was for his dehydration, but they’d added some medicine to help with the pain. The doctor came quickly and asked her questions. The staff had already been told who had hurt Frank and Donna knew a social worker would be coming before long. When the doctor stated that she was going to examine him, Frank stared at Donna with a look of embarrassment and shame until she gave him a smile and said she was going to step out of the room for coffee. Gerard would find her when it was safe to come back, but she wasn’t going to intrude on Frank’s privacy. He’d been stripped of enough dignity today. 

Waiting in the lobby was hard and Donna found herself pacing angrily back and forth as she waited for Gerard to text her an update. She wanted find Frank’s mother and choke her. She wanted to beat _her_ and see how she liked it. 

What possessed a woman to make her beat her child in its most sensitive area? Didn’t she know what damage that would cause? By the sounds of it, from what Frank had whispered to the nurses and what the nurses had muttered to the doctor, he would probably never be able to have children—if he ever recovered enough to have a relationship. 

An attack like this would leave Frank _devastated._ How was he going to be able to trust a woman to touch him again? Or a man? Or _anyone?_ What was to gain from hurting him so badly? 

Donna just couldn’t wrap her head around it. 

She took out her phone and sent a quick text to her son. 

“Where does Frank’s mom work?”

About three minutes later she got her answer. 

“Dr. Krops(?) office? Some podiatrist. Y?”

Donna didn’t answer him. She put her phone back into her purse and approached the woman at the front desk. 

“Hi, one of the doctors told me I should see a Dr. Krop about my ankle sprain. Do you know where I could find that office?” Donna flashed a huge, fake smile which the receptionist returned.

“Do you mean Dr. Kropf? He’s a podiatrist in the next town over.”

“Yes, that sounds right,” Donna said, nodding. “Can I get that address please?”

“Sure.”

Just as Donna was about to walk out, she heard her phone chirp and had to stop. If Frank needed her, it would damage his psyche if she walked out. Frank had only been around her a couple of times but it was no secret that the boy clung to her. All he needed was one hug from a person and he became dependent on them. From the moment she’d made him breakfast and let him hug her the entire time, she’d become his surrogate mother and _she_ would _never_ walk out on him.

“Social worker is here. Come. Back.”

Donna sighed and put her plans for revenge on the back burner for the moment. She hurried back to Frank’s little room in the ER and felt her stomach tighten when she saw Frank lying on his side sobbing, holding one of Gerard’s hands and refusing to talk to the woman standing next to his bed. 

When the woman saw Donna she turned her focus away from Frank and approached her, asking if she would step into the hall for a moment. Donna did her best to be agreeable. She and Gerard—and even Ray—had pieced together a fragile lie about what they knew of Frank’s abuse. They knew she was _strict,_ they would say. They knew that _sometimes_ she might deny him food as a punishment. They would admit that sometimes Frank would have bruises on his face from being slapped, but that he always claimed it was bullies. If they admitted they knew Frank was abused and said nothing until now, they would be held as accountable. 

Frank knew this too.

“I think…I first noticed something was wrong when he stayed over on a weeknight,” Donna said in response to the social worker’s questions. “I thought it was odd his mother asked him to go out. He didn’t look hurt, though; but when I was making breakfast he just…clung to me. I thought it was odd a boy his age would cling like that. You know? Teenage boys don’t want to hang out with their friends’ moms.”

“You said he didn’t look…hurt?” The social worker asked in a leading tone. “Has his mother been known to be violent before now?”

“Mikey—my youngest son—said that she was strict, so I knew she…you know, she _spanks_ him still which is weird because he’s a teenager but I wasn’t going to go over there or anything to tell her about it. That’s crossing a line, I thought.”

“But you never thought she was violent?”

“No. He never said anything—and _Mikey_ never told me anything. I didn’t know it was _this_ bad. I mean, how can a woman _do this_ to her _child?_ Frank’s a sweet boy. He didn’t deserve this.”

“Yes, that’s true,” the social worker said, nodding and jotting something down in her little notebook.

“I hope… I hope this isn’t crossing a line, but what’s going to happen to him? I…I don’t want to see him in foster care. I can take him. There’s room in my house. It’s just me and my husband and our youngest son.” She didn’t know why she excluded Gerard, but once he was out of the picture it would be easy to say there was an extra bed and enough room and money to keep another teenage boy. “Mikey’s his best friend. It would be good, right? For him to be with a friend.”

“In a case like this we usually place the child with a family member while we’re investigating. It’s more appropriate and it’s healthier to be with family instead of strangers or friends.”

“I don’t think Frank has any other family—his mother is all he’s ever talked about.” Donna was _not_ letting Frank out of her sight. If she found out a relative they wanted to send him to, she would make it her personal mission to dig up as much dirt on that person as she could. 

“He talks about his mother a lot?”

“He says she’s sick,” Donna said skeptically. “Whenever you ask why his mother is so strict with him about where goes or what he does, he just…says she’s sick. Never gives any more details than that.”

“Okay. Well, you’ve been very helpful and we do appreciate that you brought him in to get treatment—he really needed medical attention.”

“Yeah,” Donna said, holding back the words ‘no shit.’

“There will be some officers here in a little bit to ask some more questions. I’m going to call my boss to discuss the case and…in the meantime you’re free to visit with Frank before the doctors come back.”

Donna watched the woman walk away and then stepped back into Frank’s room. He was still sobbing and Gerard had moved to sit next to him on the bed, petting his hair. It was strange to her to see him so affectionate toward anyone. After high school and all he’d been through he’d become so angry and cold. His job was an excuse to bully others the way he had been in his youth. He’d complained to her about Frank and his stealing from the Spend N Save, now he sat at Frank’s bedside and fawned over him with a tenderness he’d never shown to anyone. 

“Boys I’m gonna go into town to get some food. Okay? I’ll be back.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Gerard said, not even turning away from Frank.

Frank probably hadn’t even heard her speak over the noise of his own sobs.


	16. Chapter 16

_Chapter 16_

Donna stepped into the office of Dr. Kropf. There were two women sitting at the front desk. One was typing on the computer and the one beside her was smiling and making small talk with a patient who was filling out paperwork. The woman who was typing on the computer looked too young and too pale to possibly be Frank’s mother. She had long red hair kept back in a ponytail and her face was fresh and youthful. Donna came seeking a monster, but both of the women at the desk looked so ordinary and harmless.

“Hello. Can I help you?” The redheaded woman asked, smiling at Donna with genuine cheer as though she liked greeting disgruntled patients.

“I’m looking for Mrs. Iero.”

The woman’s face suddenly became confused and then she smiled and pointed at the woman next to her at the desk—the woman giggling with the female patient filling out the paperwork.

“Linda?” The redhead asked.

At the sound of her _first name,_ Linda Iero turned her head toward Donna, smiled and then looked to the redhead.

“Did I miss something?”

“This woman’s here for you?” The redhead said, looking a little nervous when she saw the look of hatred on Donna’s face. 

“Why?” Linda asked, looking at the redhead instead of Donna.

“Um… I don’t…” The redhead laughed and looked from Linda to Donna and shook her head—her face showing her discomfort through her plastered on smile. 

“Can I help you?” Linda asked, looking at Donna again and smiling.

“I’m here about your son.” Donna kept her voice firm and piercing, locking her eyes with Linda’s so she could watch them fill with fear and dread.

“You have a son?” The redhead asked, laughing in surprise. “I didn’t know you had kids.”

A spark of anger showed in Linda’s eyes but she couldn’t express it—her secret had been found out.

“I…I hope everything’s okay,” the redhead said when Linda did not answer. “Linda?”

“Let’s speak in private,” Linda said. “Excuse us.” She stood up from the desk and kept a wide berth between herself and Donna as she walked down the hall. Donna followed her, her hands clenched in tight fists as she tried to talk herself out of throwing a punch or slamming the woman into the wall and kicking her a few times between the legs to see how she liked it.

“You’re a sick woman,” Donna spat as soon as Linda stopped walking. How the woman could abuse her son and then clean up and come to work and _smile and laugh_ with her patients was a mystery to her. She had to have known today was the day she would be caught. It was a surprise the cops hadn’t come already.

“He’s a sick child,” Linda said, her lip curling in disgust at the mere mention of her son, but her eyes clouded with something close to sorrow. 

“You put him in the hospital. I hope you’re proud.”

Linda said nothing and cast her gaze to the floor. She acted like _Gerard_ did when he was a boy and had been caught in a lie—stubborn and unwilling to admit fault.

“You don’t deserve that boy. Frank is a _good_ kid. He is _sweet,_ he is _loving_ and he did _not_ deserve what you did to him. Do you understand me?”

“You don’t know him,” Linda said. 

Donna last her patience and slapped her, finally getting an expression of shock out of the woman. 

“Don’t you _dare_ insult him. That boy _loves_ you and you don’t deserve it. He would do anything for you and _this_ is how you repay him?”

“He was being sinful,” Linda whispered. Donna almost asked her what she was talking about, then thought of how Frank had been hurt and how much shame he was harboring about it. 

“He’s a boy!” Donna snapped. “What do you _expect!?_ ”

Linda said nothing and returned her gaze to the floor.

“I’m taking your son. And if I have my way—and I think I will—you will _never_ see that child again,” Donna said, staring the woman down.

When Linda looked up at her, Donna took a step backwards. The woman’s face had gone slack and her eyes were wide.

“You’re taking him?” She asked, her voice a soft whisper.

“Yes.”

Then Linda started to smile—not a crazed smile, not a cruel sneer, a _genuine_ one as though Donna had just offered her a priceless gift. 

“I wanted so long for this to happen—you know, my mother I _begged_ her but she wouldn’t take him. She said I had to have him, but—but now you’re here and you can take him. You’ll…you’ll _keep_ him?” Tears came to the woman’s eyes and Donna’s stomach churned. This was the happiest moment of Linda’s life. 

“If you didn’t want him why didn’t you give him up? Why would you do this to him?” Donna asked, pulling away when Linda reached for her. 

“I couldn’t put him in _foster care,_ ” Linda said, looking repulsed as though she thought abusing him was better than leaving him with strangers. “Don’t you know what those men do to children? Even _boys,_ the filthy sodomites. I couldn’t put him there… But now you’re here—and you’re going to take him. You’re going to keep him, right?”

“Yes,” Donna repeated. Before she could react, Linda began hugging her and murmuring more words of thanks and praise. Donna was a “gracious” woman, a “godly” woman, a “merciful” woman. 

Donna was only able to get the woman off of her after her cell phone began to ring—Gerard, probably, asking when she’d be back.

“Do you have a house key?” Donna asked, silencing her phone and sending a quick text saying she wouldn’t be long and to tell Frank everything would be okay.

“Why?” Linda asked, sounding dazed instead of suspicious.

“I want to get his things.”

“Oh—right. How thoughtful.” Linda pulled her key ring out of her pocket and worked the house key off the metal ring. “Now, his room is on the right at the top of the stairs. All his things are there. I don’t let him keep his stuff all over my house. And…you can take the bed sheets and the pillow if you want. I’ll throw them out if they stay…no use for that. They’re filthy,” she added in a quiet mumble. “And… And when you’re done, just put the key in the mailbox—but don’t let the neighbors see. I think that man across the street wants in my house. He’s _always_ looking at Frank when he’s outside.”

“Right,” Donna said, sighing when her phone started ringing again. “And where is your house?”

“I’ll write down the directions for you,” Linda said, smiling cheerfully as she led Donna back to the reception desk. 

This woman was sick. This woman was very sick.

( ) ( ) ( )

The medicine made him so dizzy and groggy, but it was a welcome experience after he’d suffered through all of the pain. He didn’t really know what was happening anymore. Gerard was sitting in the chair beside him and whenever Frank really started to feel disconnected he would let his arm roll off the bed. Gerard would catch it and put it back at Frank’s side, sometimes lingering long enough to hold his hand. Frank liked that. He liked having Gerard close still. For a while he’d been afraid Gerard would leave to go back to work after Frank had been made to go into surgery to fix the “small bit of damage” his mother had done, but Gerard had stayed.

Donna was gone though. 

If Frank’s brain weren’t so hazy the thought might’ve been enough to make him go back to crying, but he was okay. Gerard said Donna would be back soon—but he’d said that even before the surgery. 

The only person who kept ducking in and out was the social worker and Frank didn’t want to talk to her. He pretended to be asleep every time she came in and the nurses shooed her out because they understood Frank needed rest, not more stress. 

But this time the nurse let her in and Frank had to talk to her. With his brain hazy it was hard to think of lies so when she asked him how long his mother had been hurting him and how many times and in what ways, Frank confessed. The only lie he told was the one he was used to telling—the one he needed to keep Donna and Gerard safe—that he never told anyone about his mother’s abuse because he was scared he would be judged. 

The social worker tried asking Gerard to leave but Frank claimed he didn’t want to be alone with her because she scared him. It wasn’t a complete lie—he didn’t know this woman but he understood she now had complete control over him—but he really just didn’t want to lose that comforting touch on his hand. 

“Frank, we contacted your grandmother and she says that she can take you in while your case is being handled. Is that okay?” 

Through the drugs and the haze, tears welled quickly in Frank’s eyes and he let out a sob. The only thing worse than that which the woman could’ve said was that they didn’t believe his mother had hurt him and that she was here to pick him up. He didn’t want to go with his grandmother. She didn’t beat him, but she was just as mean as Momma. 

“Frank? Why are you crying?”

“She’s mean to me,” Frank sobbed. “I don’t want to go with her—please don’t make me. She’s _mean._ She _hates_ me.”

“Now why do you say that?”

“She tells me all the time that I’m selfish and stupid and that I can’t do anything right,” Frank whimpered, not caring if he sounded like a kindergartner throwing a tantrum. He didn’t want to go with her. “If you make me go with her I’ll kill myself. I won’t go.”

“Now you can’t say things like that or I’ll have to have you admitted to the hospital.”

“I’d rather be here than with her!” Frank sobbed. He felt the bed shift and then warm arms were wrapped around him. He recognized the familiar scent of Gerard.

“You can’t put him with that woman. She knew what Frank was going through and didn’t do anything,” Gerard said. “She’s just as guilty as his mom.”

“The best thing is to have him with a family member and we can’t find his father at this time—”

“I’ll drink bleach if you make me go with her,” Frank said, sobbing into Gerard’s chest. “Please don’t send me to her! She’s mean to me like Momma. I don’t want to.” He didn’t care that his voice had become nothing more than a high-pitched screech. Maybe if he sounded pathetic enough the woman would listen.

“Alright, Frank. I’ll call my boss and we’ll see what we can do.”

The woman left and Frank continued to clutch onto Gerard while the older man kissed his head and rubbed his back. Frank wanted to stay with him and Donna—he wanted to live with Mikey, his best friend. He didn’t want to go to Pennsylvania to live with the woman who had made his mother into what she was. 

If he went to his grandmother, she would blame him just like Momma did and say he’d earned the punishment she gave him. Frank didn’t want to hear that. He wanted to hear how good he was and how sweet his was—all the things he heard Donna say. He didn’t want reminded that he was worthless and bad. 

Before the social worker came back, Donna reappeared in the room and sat down on the other side of Frank. Gerard let go of him so Donna could hold him instead, and Frank buried his face in her shoulder. 

“Frank, I have some news. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Frank whispered, listening to her heartbeat and trying to slow his breathing. He wanted to be composed around her. She’d already had two sons so she knew how boys his age were supposed to act—crying on her chest at age sixteen was inappropriate. He didn’t want to try her patience and lose her affections. 

“I went to see your mother.” 

Frank stiffened. She went to see Momma? Suddenly, Frank didn’t know if it was so safe to be hugging her. There were all sorts of things Momma could’ve told her. Things that would make Donna hate him. Maybe this hug was Donna’s way of saying goodbye and good luck. 

“I got your things and I put them in my house…so I’m gonna go find that case worker and see if I can’t get something arranged so you can stay with me, okay?”

Donna wanted to keep him? She’d gone to see Momma yet she still wanted to keep him in her home?

“I want to stay with you,” Frank whispered. Like Gerard, Donna kissed the top of his head and Frank snuggled against her. Why couldn’t she have been his mother instead? Then Mikey would be his older brother and he would have a family instead of…Momma.

He couldn’t even feel guilt for wishing his mother out of his life. He loved her—he would always love her—but he was scared of her now and she had hurt him so badly. 

“I’m sure you can, Frankie. Now I’m going to go find that woman and see what I can do. You stay here and be good.” She pulled away and kissed Frank’s cheek before getting up from the bed. 

Frank stared at her, unable to hide his surprise with all the drugs pumping through his system. No one had kissed his face before—no one but Kyle and that had been a joke, a cruel sick joke. He prayed that Donna would be able to coerce the woman into letting him stay with them. To go from Momma to a full house with a family…it would be like a fairytale. 

As Donna left the room, Gerard moved to sit beside Frank with one arm around Frank’s shoulders. 

“Mom’ll probably give you my room,” Gerard said. Suddenly, Frank started to feel guilty and he thought he might cry again. He didn’t want to inconvenience anyone with his presence. He would be happy to sleep on the couch—he would sleep under the kitchen table if he had to. He didn’t need to take Gerard’s bedroom away from him. “But, you know… The basement’s big enough we could share. You just need your own bed obviously.”

“I don’t want to cause trouble,” Frank whispered.

“You’re not causing trouble. Besides, it would be good for Mikey to have someone his own age in the house. We get along but I don’t want to hear about all that high school stuff. I lived through that once and it was enough for me.”

“I don’t like school,” Frank mumbled, settling back down in the hospital bed. 

“Me either,” Gerard said. 

“I only go because Mikey’s there…and if I didn’t go they’d call Momma.”

Gerard started prattling on about his high school days and Frank found himself nestling down into his side. He felt his eyes slipping closed and dared to slide one of his hands over Gerard’s legs to rest against the side of the other man’s hand. When Gerard moved to lightly grasp Frank’s hand, Frank smiled and let himself slip back into his hazy sleep. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank had to have help walking up the steps to Donna’s home. It wasn’t because of the pain, but rather the medication that still left him woozy and parts of him simply felt numb. He didn’t feel pain at all and he hoped it stayed that way. The hospital had given him a prescription for strong pain medication and Donna had actually gotten it filled for him at the hospital pharmacy unlike Momma. When she’d broken his wrist, she refused to buy the pain medication. She wouldn’t even give him generic tablets of ibuprofen. 

But Donna wasn’t like Momma. Donna was nice…

Mikey opened the front door before Frank could even reach it, and he looked so worried that Frank found himself flattered. For a long time now Mikey had been cold toward him—not mean and unfeeling, but much less sympathetic. To have Mikey look at him with concern instead of annoyance or apathy was comforting. 

“Hey,” Frank said, waving his hand a little awkwardly in greeting, not sure what to say as he stumbled into the house. 

“Hey—are you okay? Like, did they get everything taken care of?” Mikey asked, opening his arms in order to give Frank a quick hug. 

He was so surprised by the contact he didn’t even think to hug back until Mikey was already pulling away.

“Don’t bombard him with questions, Mikey,” Donna said as she stepped into the house, closing the door behind her. “He’s medicated.”

“Yeah, I can kind of tell. Is it because of the pain or the juice that you can’t walk?”

“The juice…?” Frank suggested. 

“Wow, they gave you the really good stuff,” Mikey said. 

“Frank, I put all of your things downstairs, but I set up the futon in Mikey’s room for tonight. Don’s gonna go out tomorrow after work to buy a bed for you.”

“Buy a bed?” Frank asked, looking from Mikey who shrugged indifferently, to Donna who was smiling at him. “You don’t need to do that—I like the futon.”

“If you’re going to be staying here, you need a bed. We can’t have that social worker coming to see you and saying that we aren’t taking care of you.”

“But I like the futon,” Frank repeated. He wanted to say more—that he really didn’t need a bed to feel welcomed because Donna had already done so much for him.

“You don’t need to sleep on a futon for the rest of your life, sweetie,” Donna said, grabbing Frank by the chin and kissing him on the top of his head before walking off into the kitchen. “I’m going to start making dinner. If anybody has any suggestions, better speak now before I make something you won’t eat.”

“I want pizza,” Mikey said, almost immediately losing interest in Frank to follow his mother to the kitchen.

“You want to sit on the couch for a while? Watch some TV?” Gerard asked, putting a hand on Frank’s shoulder.

“Sure?”

Frank went where he was guided and settled into Gerard’s side once they reached the couch. He ignored Gerard when he asked what he wanted to watch—all his mother ever watched were the religious programs and the news—and focused on trying to go back to sleep while Donna and Mikey spoke in the kitchen. 

Just as he was about to fall asleep, he felt the cushion on the other side of him shift as Mikey joined them on the couch. 

“Is he asleep?”

“Mm, probably,” Gerard mumbled. “They got him loaded on the good stuff.”

“What did she even _do_ to him? Mom won’t tell me.”

“Trust me; you don’t wanna know.”

“Mom said he had surgery. What—”

“If he wants you to know, he’ll tell you. Now be quiet. He’s trying to sleep.”

“Well, should I be worried? I mean, he’s not gonna have…complications or something in the middle of the night and die, right?”

“No. At least…I don’t think so.”

“This is freaking me out. If he had surgery and his bones aren’t broken, what the hell did she do?”

“Mikey, you’re gonna wake him up. Would you stop?”

“And why do you suddenly care so much? You kept whining about him stealing from your store and now you’re acting like he’s your son or something.”

“I’m the one who found him, Mikey—I just…I feel like I need to… Whatever. Just shut up.”

“So is his mom in jail then?”

“I don’t know! Probably. Can we not talk about this with Frank sitting right here?”

“What does it matter? He’s sleeping.”

Frank thought to make a noise, telling them he wasn’t asleep and didn’t really appreciate the discussion, but it wasn’t his house and he had no right to tell the brothers what they could and couldn’t say.

“Let’s just hope the pills they gave him actually help. Otherwise…you’re in for a long night.”

“I wish you’d just tell me what she did.”

“If he wants you to know, he’ll tell you.”

Mikey groaned and flopped back against the couch. Frank didn’t know whether to be offended or flattered that his friend was digging so hard for information. It was good to know Mikey cared, but at the same time he knew Mikey’s curiosity was probably fuelled by more intrigue than genuine concern. Having it kept a secret from him made him realize that the secret was a juicy one and wanted in on the gossip. 

Suddenly, Frank wanted to cry again. He wished his friend cared about him like he used to before the video got out. Frank _hated_ himself for letting Kyle take advantage of him. He deserved what his mother did after what he’d done with Kyle. 

“At least he’s away from her,” Mikey said.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Gerard huffed.

“I was about to stick around some night and give her a piece of my mind.”

“Oh really? You’re like five feet tall. What the hell could you do? You’re a toothpick.”

“I didn’t say I was gonna punch her out—but I’d do it if I had to.”

“You and me both,” Gerard muttered. 

“Like, if I were there and she was hitting him—”

“Mikey…”

“What? I’m just saying. Frank’s my best friend. If I saw her doing something to hurt him, I’m going to defend him.”

It didn’t make up for gossiping about him or reminding Frank for the hundredth time that he’d sent his own mother to jail, but it warmed him just a little to know Mikey would stick up for him if the moment came. He hadn’t really been there through the whole video fiasco, but Frank understood. People had started spreading the lie that Mikey was the other boy in the video and that kept Mikey at bay for a long time. Frank could understand that… It was never his intention to cause his friend any harm.

Suddenly, Frank started to feel less bitter and more guilty. Why did he always offend everyone he loved? How long would it be before he did something to embarrass Gerard? Or had he already with all his clinging and childish sobbing? And what about Donna? What if the social worker forced her to take him because he wouldn’t go with his grandmother? What if they wanted him gone and were just too polite to ask?

Frank sniffed and nestled further into Gerard’s side. Even if Gerard didn’t like him, the closeness was still comforting and Frank was able to fall into a fitful sleep.


	17. Chapter 17

_Chapter 17_

The doctors had said Frank needed to stay in bed for at least a few days to help him heal. He was allowed to get up to use the bathroom and to eat meals, but otherwise he was to avoid moving around too much. It was strange for Frank to spend all day laying in bed or on the couch while someone else walked around the house looking after him.

Mikey went to school during the day, Gerard typically slept until it was time for him to go to work, and their father left home early in the mornings to go to his job. That left Frank alone with Donna who busied herself with the housework in between breaks for food and to watch her soap operas on television. 

The first day in the house, Frank had refused to leave Mikey’s room for anything. He still felt too sick to eat and going to the bathroom still filled him with agonizing pain and there was still blood. Donna and Mikey had brought him food that day, but Frank didn’t see Gerard at all. That was what truly spurred him into going downstairs with Mikey the next morning for breakfast. 

Gerard was up but didn’t want to eat. He said all he needed was coffee and winked at Frank when he said it. Frank didn’t know what the gesture meant, but it made him blush profusely and he stared at the table to hide his reddened cheeks. After Gerard left for work, taking Mikey with him so he could drop him off at school, Don left as well and Frank was alone with Donna. 

“You need to eat,” Donna said to him as she cleared the table of her son and husband’s plates. She put Gerard’s coffee mug and coffee pot in the sink and started washing the dishes. It made Frank guilty to know that because he accepted a plate of food, because he’d accepted a cup of orange juice, because he took too long to eat, Donna would be working at the dishes longer than she would usually have to if Frank hadn’t been there. But he doubted she would let him wash his own dishes if he asked her.

Frank tried to eat his food quickly, but it made his cramping come back so he had to take his time. When he finally handed his cup and plate to Donna who was still working on the dishes in the sink, she smiled at him and somehow it made Frank feel worse. That wasn’t enough to keep him from wrapping his arms around her though. 

Part of him wanted to see if he could get away with it. She’d let him hug her before—when he’d slept over and she’d been cooking breakfast—maybe she would let him again.

Of course, she did, and even hugged him back for a brief moment before returning her attention to the dishes. Frank stayed at her side the whole time, his face buried in her arm and shoulder. It felt nice to be close to her, to have her hug him back or even just look down at him from time to time as she worked. 

“Well, it’s about time for my show to come on,” Donna said as she dried her hands on the dish towel. Frank didn’t let go of her or speak. He wasn’t going to leave until she told him to go, and secretly he knew she wouldn’t. Not yet. She liked him still. It would change, he knew that, but for now he could get her affection and he would take all he could get. “Let’s go sit on the couch, Frank. I’ll fill you in on Jim and Karen’s marriage problems and I _think_ this is the episode where we find out who Karen’s seeing on the side.”

Frank followed her into the living room and laid down on the couch across two of the cushions while Donna sat on the third. For the first half hour, Frank rested with his head several inches away from her leg. By the end of the second episode of the rerun soap opera, he had his head in Donna’s lap and she had her hand resting on his shoulder. Every time she would sigh or shift one of her legs, Frank unwillingly flinched, expecting a strike or a shove, but she never did. She never even acknowledged his jerking away from her. 

It meant so much to have her let him close. She never pulled away in disgust, never groaned at his presence or told him to leave. It was so rare that his mother ever let him close—usually in stores when she wanted him close so she could watch him—and hugs were a reward he had to work very, _very_ hard to earn. Donna seemed to let him have her affection for free.

He knew she would probably have preferred to get back to her housework by now, but he was also aware that she wasn’t going to push him away. He was injured and that got him pity—pity made her kinder and Frank felt intoxicated on the guilty pleasure of it. 

( ) ( ) ( )

“So…you still haven’t said anything,” Ellen informed Gerard as they stood lazily at the counter, waiting for business. It was a slow day and there wasn’t much freight to put out so Ellen really had nothing to do besides follow Gerard wherever he wandered and pepper him with questions about Frank.

“There’s nothing to say,” Gerard said with a heavy sigh. “He’s on bed rest, he’s taking pain medication and antibiotics, and he’s attached himself to my mother. That’s really all there is.”

“That’s so cute he likes your mom,” Ellen said, smiling.

“Yeah… I have a feeling that won’t last very long.”

“Aw, why?”

“My mom’s not…the most lovey-dovey person in the world. She’ll _act_ like it for Frank, _for now,_ but it’s not gonna last.”

“She’s not going to yell at him, is she? That’d be so mean.” Ellen’s happiness visibly faded away and Gerard sighed.

“I don’t know. She doesn’t like people touching her and that’s all Frank does. She hardly gets a second to herself—”

“He’s only been at your house, what, two days? He’ll get it out of his system. She’d _better not_ yell at him. I’ll come smack her myself if she does. Frank needs a good mother or he’s never going to trust women again.”

“I don’t think she’ll _yell,_ but I think… I don’t know, with the way Frank acts, just asking him to let go of her long enough for her to set the table is like a slap in the face to him.”

“Well he needs some love. That poor kid. He gets beat all the time and now he’s found someone who gives him love for free and he’s taking all he can get. I’m sure if she keeps her patience, he’ll get used to being able to get a hug or whatever whenever he wants and he won’t feel the need to cling _all_ the time.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Gerard said, scanning the store. “I hope, at least. Frank seems like a good kid, but he’s too old to be clinging to my mom like that. He acts like a six-year-old.”

“Well he’s emotionally stunted!” Ellen snapped. “Think about it for a second, would you!?”

“What are you yelling at me for?” Gerard asked, fixing her with a cold look and sliding a little way down the counter to put more space between them.

“Because you’re making fun of him!”

“I’m not making _fun_ of him, I’m making a point. He’s sixteen and he acts six. He still calls his mother ‘Momma.’”

“He calls that psychopath what she’s told him to call her. If he went around saying ‘yes, mother; of course, mother,’ that bitch might think it was backtalk and smack him. If he calls her momma it sounds…cute. It’s not sarcastic. There’s no way ‘momma’ can sound sarcastic.”

“I guess that does make sense,” Gerard said.

“And he acts like a little kid because he’s never gotten the chance to grow up. That boy can’t do _anything_ without his mom breathing down his neck ready to punish him. All he ever gets to do is, what? Go to school, go home, _maybe_ go to the store and get yelled at, get beaten, go to bed. How does that make you grow up and be an adult?”

“It’s just weird. I’m sorry, but it’s weird. Don’t get me wrong, I _like_ Frank. He’s a good kid, I feel sorry for him, but I really hope he… _grows up_ soon.”

“Well give him time,” Ellen hissed, her irritation showing. “He’s gotta be terrified right now. His mom is in jail, isn’t she?”

“Yeah. They arrested her at work. Frank’s caseworker says they’re holding her for a psych-eval which is good I guess.”

“Good? That bitch deserves to be put in prison.”

“If his mother goes to jail, it’s gonna kill Frank. He already feels guilty enough.”

“He has _nothing_ to feel bad about. She hurt him so much… He doesn’t need to feel sorry for her.”

“Frank feels sorry for everything. My mom gave him his plate at dinner last night and he said sorry instead of thank you.”

“Stop—you’re going to make me cry. That poor kid.”

“No, you want to hear something that will make you cry?”

“No! I don’t want to cry,” Ellen said. Then a moment later added, “What?”

“He kept telling the doctor in the emergency room that his chest was hurting and had been for a few weeks—turns out part of his heart was swollen or some shit.”

“He has a heart condition?” Ellen asked, already looking devastated. 

“Sort of. The doctors say it’s caused by stress and anxiety, kind of like a physical manifestation of his—”

“Of his heartache, yeah,” Ellen said. “That really is sad.”

“They’ve got a name for it, when the heart swells up from emotional pain—fuckin’ Broken Heart Syndrome. She _literally_ broke his heart.”

“Okay, now I _am_ going to cry,” Ellen said, turning her face away. “That’s just horrible. Does it go away?”

“The doctor said it should clear up on its own in a week or so if he’s calmed down. I haven’t heard him mention it at all since he got home from the hospital.”

“That poor kid. I didn’t even know that kind of thing could happen… That woman’s sick.”

“But, yeah, my mom said when she went to see Frank’s mom at work—to tell her she was taking Frank away—she said his mom looked like she was about to cry she was so happy. She _wanted_ someone to take Frank away from her, but went on this rant about how if she’d put him up for adoption he would get raped in foster care or something. It’s like she _cares…_ but she _doesn’t._ The woman’s crazy.”

“She was scared he’d be sexually assaulted…but she’d take a belt and _whip_ him between the legs. The woman’s a psycho and she deserves prison.”

Gerard had only told Ellen what Frank had been put through because the girl kept asking over and over. When he wouldn’t say, she came to her own conclusions. Since she’d heard Frank had been cramping and had thrown up, she assumed he’d been poisoned and that his mother had tried to murder him. It made her so distressed she had tears running down her face as she tried to wait on customers and could hardly do any work at all. Telling her the truth didn’t help her much and she still had to switch tasks with Ray for the rest of the night—leaving the register to her manager and working on stock instead—but she had at least stopped muttering to herself that she’d almost gotten Frank killed because she never reported the abuse. 

“The woman needs help. I don’t know what her problem is, I don’t _wanna_ know what her problem is, but if she goes to prison Frank’s going to beat himself up over it. She needs mental help, and maybe a stay in the psych-ward would be good for her. She’d still be off the streets and away from Frank, but at least she’d get the help she needs.”

“She _needs_ a bullet through the fuckin’ brain.”

“Frank doesn’t _want_ that,” Gerard said. “All he ever says—even to the social workers—he just tells them ‘she’s sick, she doesn’t mean it.’”

“Well she’s got him wrapped around her little finger. She’s an evil bitch to do those things to Frankie.”

“I’m not going to argue with that.”

“So…is there any other news? Is Frankie going to stay with you guys?”

“They’re looking for his dad right now but no one really knows where he is. If he’s a suitable guardian then he’ll have to stay with him, but Mom’s working with Frank’s case worker to become a legitimate foster parent for him.”

“You mean there’s a process?” Ellen asked sarcastically, rolling her eyes. “I thought they let just about anybody foster kids. You hear it on the news all the time about people who keep the kids in garages or cages.”

“Yeah. It’s not too hard. They do a home inspection to make sure it’s got room for someone else and they talked to Mikey about how he feels about Frank staying around.”

“What about you?”

“Oh, _apparently_ I moved out a few months ago and got myself an apartment so _my_ room is actually _Mikey’s_ room, and Mikey’s room is now _Frank’s._ ”

“What?” Ellen asked, laughing.

“My mom told them I moved out,” Gerard said, humored. “I don’t know why, but the social workers _love_ that my mom already got him a bunch of new things.”

“When were they at your house? He just moved in the other day.”

“They pretty much moved in the same time he did. Those people are _always_ showing up.”

“Aren’t they suspicious that you’re still hanging out there?”

“I tell them I come over for meals because I just love my family _so_ much…”

“I bet Frankie likes getting dinner every night, huh?”

“You’d be surprised. He doesn’t have much of an appetite and I think he feel guilty whenever my mom cooks for him.”

“Aw. He’s so precious! Can you just bring him in here someday so I can, I don’t know, gush over him all night? He can hug on me _all_ he wants.”

“Do I need to call the cops? You’re starting to sound a little like a pedophile over here,” Ray said as he made his way up the center aisle.

“Ew—I didn’t mean it like that! Frank’s like my baby.”

“Okay,” Ray said, not really understanding her sentiments but smiling and playing it off. “So, how is your brother liking having his friend stay over?”

“He keeps asking him what happened and he’s getting pissed off Frank won’t tell him, but that’s about it. Frank doesn’t do a whole lot right now besides lay around and sleep.”

“And hug your mom,” Ellen chimed in.

“Yeah—lay around and sleep while hugging my mom.”

“Isn’t that the sweetest thing ever?” Ellen asked Ray who chuckled softly.

“I guess. It’s good for him. And now he won’t have to steal all our fruit cups.”

Gerard nodded and then slipped out from behind the counter. It was two o’clock. By now his mother would have made and served Frank lunch and cleared away the dishes. It was time to call to check on Frank.

( ) ( ) ( )

“I hope this arrangement isn’t a problem for you, Frank,” Donna said. She and Frank were standing downstairs in the basement, in Gerard’s room—in the room Frank was going to be sharing with Gerard. “I can’t have you sleeping on the futon and Gerard’s not moving out anytime soon so…this is the only space I have to put you.”

“I can sleep on the couch,” Frank murmured. He felt like an inconvenience, like an intruder, as he stared at the new bed and new furniture set up alongside Gerard’s old things. There was more than enough room in the basement for both of them. Gerard’s area was just at the base of the stairs and Frank’s continued along down the wall closer to the washing machine and dryer. 

“You _cannot_ sleep on the couch,” Donna said. “What’s the matter? Do you not want to be down here?”

“It’s not that. I just… Won’t Gerard be mad? I mean, this is _his_ room.”

_“Gerard_ helped pay for this and he _knew_ where it would end up going. If he had a problem with it, do you think he’d buy these things for you?”

Gerard helped pay for it? Frank couldn’t make up his mind on whether he should feel honored, guilty, and elated—and it was hard to make room for all three. 

“Don’t worry about it so much, Frankie,” Donna said, putting an arm around Frank’s shoulders and rubbing his arm. “We’re doing this because we want to. Because you’re part of this family and we take care of each other.” 

“I don’t want Gerard to be mad…”

“He won’t be mad,” Donna said, kissing the top of Frank’s head and then gently pushing him toward his new bed with the new sheets and comforter set. He’d never had a matching bed set before. “But a small word of advice, if you see him with his headphones on and he’s working in his sketchbook, just leave him alone. If he’s got headphones on, he doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“I’ll probably just…stay upstairs until he goes to bed,” Frank whispered. There was a tightness in his chest at the prospect of finally having a safe, fresh place to call his own but feeling too guilty about where it was to enjoy it. 

“Frank, you have a right to be down here. It won’t bother Gerard. He could use the company.”

“Not gonna run him out of his room,” Frank mumbled. 

“Frank, I’m going to say this one more time,” Donna said, her voice immediately switching from kind to irritable and stern. “You’re not doing anything wrong. Gerard does not _care_ if you’re down here. That’s the end of it. I won’t have you getting upset because you have to share.”

Frank was relieved that Donna walked back upstairs at that moment without him so she didn’t see the tears that welled in his eyes. Did she think he was ungrateful? He’d made her angry… He never meant that it was an inconvenience to him to have to share a space, he just didn’t want to upset Gerard.

He _liked_ Gerard. Gerard called in the afternoons to see how he was and brought him fruit cups home from work, and helped pay for the bed and the furniture. He didn’t want to intrude on Gerard’s private space and make Gerard hate him. It was an honor to share a space with anyone in Donna’s family. It felt nice to even sleep on the futon in Mikey’s bedroom because there was another person close. 

He’d never meant to offend Donna…

Frank choked back his tears regained his composure before hurrying back upstairs where Donna was doing the dishes. He took the risk of creeping close to her and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder even though he knew she was angry and he knew _well_ what angry mothers were capable of. 

He was sorry. He was sorry he hadn’t said thank you when she showed him the room. He was sorry he didn’t express the excitement he felt. He was sorry he didn’t know how to act right. 

“You know you’re not in trouble, right?” Donna said as she set another plate in the drying rack. Frank didn’t answer her, he just squeezed her a little tighter. “Frank, I asked you a question.”

“I’m sorry,” Frank mumbled, knowing that if he said anything more he would cry. He hated being that weak and childish, but he couldn’t help how he felt. When Donna sighed irritably, he caved and let the tears fall. “I just don’t want to make anyone mad at me. I want to be here, but I don’t want… I don’t want Gerard to be mad at me and want me out.”

“No one is mad at you, Frank. And you don’t need to be upset. We love you, we want to share our space with you, and we don’t want you to feel bad about it.”

“I don’t want you mad,” Frank repeated. It was all that was ever on his mind. Pain, Momma, and being terrified that today would be the day he fucked up and made Donna mad. 

“You’re not going to make me mad, Frank. And if you did, all that would happen is I’d tell you you’re frustrating me and ask you to stop. That’s it. We don’t hit in this house, and we don’t yell in this house. We’re not going to throw you out if you do something wrong.”

Frank wished the words consoled him, but they didn’t. He swallowed hard and tried to think of words to say in response, but nothing came. There was a painful lump in his throat and he was trying so hard to hold it back, afraid he’d break down sobbing instead of just crying a few stray tears. He didn’t want to be so pathetic…

“You should get your things from Mikey’s room and put them downstairs. Okay?” Donna asked. 

Frank nodded, his head still pressed against her arm. He lingered a few minutes longer, clinging to her in a desperate attempt to prove his affection and gratitude to her for all she had done. 

“I love you,” he whispered as he slowly let his arms drop from around her waist.

It startled him when Donna put an arm around him long enough to squeeze and give him a gentle hug.

“I love you too,” she said. 

That was all it took. Frank broke down sobbing.


	18. Chapter 18

_Chapter 18_

“Frank, stay awake,” Gerard said. He didn’t have to look over his shoulder at his new roommate’s bed to know the boy was dozing off again. All the kid had done the past week was eat, sleep, and hug on Donna. “Frank, stay awake,” Gerard repeated.

Frank moaned deeply and shifted around on his bed. 

“Frank. Stay awake.”

“I am awake,” Frank mumbled, whimpering a little after the words were out and then shifting around some more in his blankets and sheets. “But I’m tired. I want to take a nap.”

“You’re tired because you’ve slept all day. Stay awake.”

“I don’t need to be awake. I don’t have anything to do.”

“You have plenty of homework you could be doing,” Gerard said.

The way he said it must’ve sounded forceful because Frank moaned groggily and then crawled over to the foot of his bed. He leaned over the edge and unzipped his backpack, taking out his text books and notebooks. 

“If I do my math, can I go to sleep?”

“No—you need to stay awake.”

“I don’t get why,” Frank said. It had taken a few days, but Frank was finally able to ask questions of people and refuse things. His appetite had improved too since his injuries had started to heal. He looked a lot healthier already, and whenever he wasn’t snuggling with Gerard’s mother he was actually starting to act his age. 

“Because you need to get your sleep schedule back in order. You go back to school next week.”

“I don’t want to go,” Frank mumbled.

“Why not?” Gerard finally turned around, abandoning his half-hearted sketch, and looked at Frank who was diligently copying down problems from his Algebra text book. 

“Because…”

“No, come on. Why not? Because it’s boring?”

“I like school, but I don’t like being there,” Frank said softly. Whenever he did offer his opinion of things, he spoke softly as if hoping to go unheard. 

“Why?”

Frank looked up from his homework, got suddenly teary eyed, shook his head, and looked back down. Gerard hadn’t seen his mood shift so suddenly since he’d seen him at the Spend N Save with his mother and Gerard had caught him stealing. 

“What’s the matter?” Gerard asked, getting up from his desk and coming to sit at the foot of Frank’s bed. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Frank said, swallowing hard and pressing his pencil a little harder into the paper. 

“Frank… Come on. You can tell me things, you know that right? I don’t go to high school anymore, I don’t have any friends—if you tell me something, it’s gonna stay a secret because I have _literally_ no one to tell.”

“You could tell Donna,” Frank said. Of course, Donna’s was the only opinion that mattered. She was the beginning and the end for Frank—the sun wouldn’t rise if not for Donna, Frank seemed to think. Gerard was honestly waiting for the day Frank started calling her Momma. Gerard had no doubt that it would happen. After his own mother had beaten him so severely, that strong tie he had to her—the one which made him relentlessly defend her—was weakened. He barely spoke of her at all and would leave the room whenever the social workers would try to give him updates. When _Donna_ gave him updates, though, Frank just hung his head and listened. 

“Frank, unless you say you’re going to kill yourself or hurt yourself, or hurt Mikey, I’m not telling her anything. Is school going to make you hurt yourself?”

Frank shrugged. He shrugged…that was concerning.

“What’s happening at school?” Gerard asked. 

“I don’t want Donna to know…”

“I’m not telling her. Okay? Just tell me what’s going on.”

Frank hesitated, his eyes scanning his textbook and then his bedspread. Then he shook his head. 

“It’s not appropriate. I don’t need to say anything about it.”

“Frank.”

“I don’t want to make you mad either!” Frank cried, cringing and dropping his textbook onto the floor. 

“The only thing making me mad is that you won’t tell me what’s going on. Just spit it out. You’ll feel better.”

“There’s a _guy_ at school,” Frank said, looking humiliated even though he hadn’t really said anything.

“Okay… And he picks on you?” Gerard asked.

“No… Yes—I don’t know!”

_“Frank…”_

“I don’t want you mad,” Frank said, covering his face with his hands. “I don’t want you to kick me out either.”

“What are you buying drugs from this kid or something? What? What’s the matter with you?” Gerard usually avoided people when they started crying and going into hysterics, but he was drawn to Frank and seeing him hurt just made Gerard scoot closer on the bed. 

“You’ll think I’m gross,” Frank whispered. 

_Oh,_ Gerard thought, one of his eyebrows shooting up for a fraction of a second in his surprise. Teenage boy, emotionally distraught, afraid of rejection, feeling disgusting—Gerard had been there once. 

“Frank, you do know I’m _gay_ right? Mikey’s told you that by now…”

“What?” Frank looked up at him, completely off-guard and confused. 

“I don’t know—you’re just being weird right now,” Gerard said, shaking his head quickly. That was not the look he’d been expecting to get from Frank and it made him feel like he’d misinterpreted what Frank had been saying. “I thought—I don’t know, you said there was some guy and said you feel gross, I thought you…whatever. What’s going on at school?” 

“Well…that’s the thing. It’s a guy and…”

“So you _do_ have a guy problem?” Gerard said looking awkwardly from his hands which were folded in his lap to Frank’s face. The boy’s eyes had lit up and it made Gerard uncomfortable. 

“His…his name is Kyle,” Frank said, checking Gerard’s expression with every word. 

“Okay. And you _like_ Kyle?”

“No,” Frank said, quickly shaking his head. Then he paused, and then shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Gerard was honestly surprised he hadn’t heard anything about Kyle from Mikey, and he really couldn’t see Frank keeping anything a secret from his best friend. 

“So…you and Kyle?”

“He left me a letter in my locker,” Frank said. It almost sounded like a happy story—a love letter from another boy was a rare treat in high school. “And I met him where he told me to go and…” Frank looked up, trying to gauge how Gerard would react just by reading the expression in his eyes. 

“Let me guess—he’s either a jock and waited for you to show up to kick the shit out of you, or…he got in your pants and ditched you.” Gerard must’ve guessed right because Frank started crying. 

“He took video and showed it to the school,” Frank said, starting to sob. “When Mikey found out he stopped talking to me like he used to…and the school called Momma and I think that’s why she did this to me.” By the end of it, his voice was almost inaudible, his words incomprehensible. He was sobbing so hard that Gerard was afraid to touch him—nervous it would startle the boy and make him fall off the bed and hurt himself. 

To say Gerard felt bad for him was an understatement. A kid like Frank, abused at home with no one to care about him, had to have been so elated and happy to find a love letter in his locker. Of course he wouldn’t think twice when the other boy started laying on the charm. He’d be scared the only person who liked him would get fed up and leave him before anything even happened. It had probably been Frank’s first time, too, since he was so young. 

What a way to lose his virginity—to have it taped and shown to all the assholes at his school. 

“That guy’s an asshole,” Gerard said when Frank’s hysterical sobs had turned to shaky gasps for air. He scooted closer to Frank and put an arm around him, pulling him against his chest. Frank must’ve found comfort in the touch because he curled into Gerard’s chest and started clutching onto his t-shirt. He finally found someone who understood him, Gerard assumed. 

Being gay in high school sucked; being gay in high school with no one to talk to about it was even worse—especially if one has a mother obsessed with accusing every man she knew of being a filthy sodomite.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Gerard said, kissing the top of Frank’s head and squeezing him a little tighter. “That guy gives you any trouble, just tell me. I’ll wait for him to come into the Spend N Save and I’ll slip something in his pocket and get him arrested.”

“I don’t want him in trouble. I don’t want him mad at me,” Frank whispered.

“Oh God, kid. You need to quit worrying about people getting mad at you. That guy is an asshole. He tricked you, he used you. You didn’t deserve that and he doesn’t deserve to have you protecting him.”

“He wrote that letter though—”

“Don’t,” Gerard said, shaking his head quickly. “Don’t do that to yourself. Trying to convince yourself he meant _anything_ he said in that letter is just cruel. He was a jerk trying to see if he could get in your pants, and he got it and he used you—and he made fun of you. And let the whole school make fun of you. Don’t get hung up on him. You’ll find someone better.”

“No one wants to date me,” Frank said, trying to force out a sarcastic laugh but only ending up crying instead. 

“Well, not in high school. All the other gay kids are gonna be hiding. They don’t want beat up. Trust me. It doesn’t mean they’re not out there.”

“The girls are there,” Frank said a bit sheepishly, looking away at the floor. “They don’t like me either.”

“Wait… I’m confused—I thought you said Kyle…and you liked him?”

“Yeah, but… I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? You don’t know if you’re attracted to guys or not?”

“I don’t…I don’t see it like that. If they’re nice to me—if they like me—then I want to be with them.”

“Frank, that’s…not how relationships really work. You don’t just date someone because they like you. That’s how you end up dating an asshole who starts beating you up.”

“But if they like me, they won’t do that,” Frank said.

“Frank, I know what I’m talking about. You can’t just date someone because _they_ like you. People like other people for a lot of different reasons, and it’s not always for the good things. There are gonna be guys _and girls_ who are going to want to use the fact that you’re nice, that you’re _naïve,_ and that you’re _desperate_ to abuse you. It’s a fact—it’s gonna happen.”

“No one’s ever gonna date me,” Frank said, almost daring to look angry. “No one would want to.”

“Yeah, and thinking like _that_ is how you’re gonna end up with a whacko. Frank…come on. You’re small, you’re cute, you’re nice. If you have some self-respect, you’re going to get somebody great…but it’s probably going to be in college, because that’s when all the gay kids come out.”

“But the girls won’t like me,” Frank said, sniffing and staring down at the blankets. “I’m not tough or—”

“You know the cashier at the Spend N Save with the red hair? Ellen?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Frank said, furrowing his brow in confusion. “Why?”

“She has a huge crush on you.”

Frank scowled and shook his head. It was the first time he’d shown anger toward anyone since moving into the house and Gerard was surprised how natural the expression looked on his face. For a moment, he looked like his mother.

“She’s like…twenty-five.”

“I know. She’s a pedophile. It’s really sick,” Gerard said, making his tone ironically indifferent. 

“That’s not funny,” Frank said, shaking his head. 

“Frank, I’m serious. She asks about you constantly and if I have to hear about how much she wants to hug you one more time, I might just sell you to her to shut her up.”

“She’s just being nice. Why would she like someone who steals from her store?”

“That girl almost kicked my ass the first time I caught you stealing. She likes you.”

Frank looked up at him, his face still holding some of that rage and hostility, but there was an electricity in his eyes that Gerard couldn’t place. It was almost frightening.

“You talk to her about me?” Frank asked.

“Yeah,” Gerard said, looking away for a brief second, trying to figure out what Frank was getting at. He didn’t seem to be angry at the idea that Gerard was talking about him behind his back, so what was it that fuelled the spark in his eyes? “Every time I work with her she asks how you’re doing, so I tell her what you’ve been doing and she…she just gushes over you. She _likes_ you a lot.”

“Do you like me?” Frank asked. 

“Of course,” Gerard said, dodging all of the connotations Frank wanted to add to that simple answer. “You’re part of my family now.”

“But…you talk to her about me every day,” Frank said, that weird look still inhabiting his eyes. “Do you like me?”

“I just said yes,” Gerard said, getting up from the bed and going back over to his desk. It wasn’t like Frank to be so insistent, but Gerard could understand. The boy was starved for affection and had already admitted that he would go with anyone who liked him—regardless of gender, regardless of their intentions. Gerard wasn’t about to let Frank get _those_ kinds of ideas about him.

Yeah, Frank was cute and Gerard _liked_ him, but that was it. He liked him. It was hard _not_ to like someone who was completely helpless and dependent on him. But it was completely platonic. Frank was his new little brother—his new, very troubled little brother. There was no buried lust toward Frank, no coveted flame of passion. Frank was his brother.

His brother.

His much _younger_ brother.

“Gerard?”

“What?” Gerard asked, opening his desk drawer and pulling out his headphones. 

“I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just asking,” Frank said. 

“It’s fine. I’m not mad,” Gerard said, taking out his iPod and clicking through to find a good song. 

“I really didn’t mean anything—I don’t want you mad at me.”

“I’m not mad, Frank,” Gerard said, deciding on a song and slipping his headphones over his ears. He kept the volume low to listen for Frank, not wanting the boy to go back to hysterical sobbing because he thought Gerard was mad. However, the boy remained quiet and when Gerard chanced a look over his shoulder, he saw that Frank had settled back into his math homework.

( ) ( ) ( )

Even with Mikey close at his side, Frank didn’t feel comfortable walking down the hallway of the school. The video had been leaked weeks before Frank had ever even left school, but it still felt as though all eyes were on him. Every laugh he heard was directed at him. Every kid he passed who were looking at their cell phones were watching the clip. 

If it wasn’t the clip on his mind, it was Momma. The school had been told about what his mother had done to him in detail so that Karen the Kind Counselor could “help” him. He already had a therapist he was meant to see on Tuesdays and Thursdays after school and he didn’t want to have to discuss his life with any more people than he needed to. 

Frank had a deep seated fear that the school had told his teachers the gruesome details as well, and that the teachers had shared that information with the students. Everyone would know that Frank was so disgusting, so repulsive, that his own mother couldn’t bear the sight of him. She hated him so much she beat him until he needed surgery in a place he swore he would never touch or show to anyone every again. 

He wasn’t allowed to go to his gym class and he just knew that would attract attention from the jocks who loved nothing more than picking on him for how bad he was at sports. They would notice his absence and, after being deprived of their precious punching bag in the locker room, would probably try to corner him at his locker after school.

If they kicked him between the legs it could cause even more damage and land him in the hospital again. Frank could already hear the taunting in his mind if they kicked him and drew blood—on your period, Iero? Always knew you were a bitch, Iero, never knew you went into heat. 

“Are you okay?” Mikey asked, leaning next to Frank’s locker as Frank put his bag away.

“I want to go home,” Frank whispered. 

“Well, you can in like…seven hours.” Mikey offered him a smile but Frank couldn’t force one in return. He was scared to be here. More scared than ever. He didn’t want anyone to look at him. Any undue attention could lead to a beating and he was terrified of getting kicked and having to go back to the hospital. 

“I really just don’t want to be here,” Frank said quietly as he closed his locker and came to stand next to Mikey’s while his friend got his books ready. 

“Sorry,” Mikey said, shrugging. There was nothing he could really say that would make Frank feel any better. 

Frank sighed and looked over his shoulder at the people hurrying past in the hallway. No one was looking at him and that, he felt, was a good sign. Then something else caught Frank’s eye. There was a girl in a black hoodie with white wings painted on the back busying herself with her backpack at the locker across from Mikey’s. Another girl—one of the blonde, popular girls—was standing beside her, huffing and leaning further and further away every time the first girl would move. 

“Mikey? Who is that?” Frank asked, nudging his friend with his elbow.

“What? Who?” Mikey turned around and then pressed his lips into a thin line. “Oh. Her. She’s new. Her names Jamie or something. She’s a junior.”

“When did she start?” Frank asked, watching the girl as she stuffed her backpack into her locker, her books neatly tucked under her arm. 

“I don’t know—last week sometime. Why?”

“She…she looks cool.”

“Okay,” Mikey said, somehow managing to sound both disinterested and humored at the same time. “So go say hi to her.” 

“No,” Frank said, looking away as soon as the girl—Jamie—turned away from her locker and started down the hall. He didn’t want her to catch him staring and feel creeped out by him. Not that she would even look his way to notice.

Not that he _wanted_ her to turn and look at him. It was better that he went unnoticed. She would just laugh at him anyway, or sneer at the look on his face. Frank needed to work harder to stay under the radar at school, not do things to draw more attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I know Jamia's name is not Jamie. Also, as much as I love Framia in real life (cutest couple in the world, am I right?), this is not a Framia fic :3


	19. Chapter 19

_Chapter 19_

The day was long for Frank when previously it had always seemed to go by so quickly. Maybe it was because he actually anticipated the end of the day instead of dreading it. For a brief moment during fifth period he’d started to have an anxiety attack, realizing it was close to the end of the day. He’d asked to be excused to the bathroom and hid in the stall for a while calming himself down. 

There was nothing to be scared of. He was going home to Donna. Donna, not Momma. 

But thinking of Mama made the guilt begin to tug at him again. Momma was still being held in jail pending her psychological evaluation. She was in jail—locked up, behind bars, stripped off all her dignity and pride. Mikey kept saying it was supposed to make him feel good to know she was getting what she deserved, but it just made Frank feel worse. He was happy to be staying Donna and her family, but he wished it didn’t have to be because he’d gotten his own mother arrested. She didn’t deserve to be caged like an animal. She was sick; it was _his fault_ she was sick. 

So after close to fifteen minutes of convincing, Frank finally calmed himself down enough to get out of the stall and head back to class. Only the vice principal was waiting outside the bathroom for him because his teacher called to complain that he’d been gone for too long. Frank tried to say he was nauseous and had thrown up but the VP insisted he hadn’t heard anything suspicious and the toilet had never flushed. He made Frank confess that he was just feeling anxious and since word of his abuse was on the tips of everyone is administration’s tongues, he was forgiven for cutting class and got away without a demerit or detention. 

It left him with a strange feeling of pleasure. Maybe some good could come of the torture he’d endured. It was the same at school as it was with Donna. When the adults pitied him, they were nice to him. There probably wouldn’t be any more quips about his wet hair in the mornings or his over-sized clothes. The teachers would stop bullying him, and if they didn’t call attention to him and if Frank worked hard to keep everyone else’s focus off of him, he could disappear into the background. If he was invisible, no one would even think to bully him.

The only problem was, Frank wasn’t invisible. 

As he was sorting through his books at the end of the day and stuffing them into his book bag, an elbow jabbed into his shoulders, forcing him to fall forward. Had his shoulder not clipped the edge of his locker, he would’ve fallen inside.

When he straightened back up, a couple of the jocks from the soccer team were walking past laughing at him without looking back. Maybe he was invisible…just not enough. Slightly transparent, maybe. 

Frank looked around for Mikey, but still didn’t see him. He must’ve been held over by a teacher, Frank concluded before sighing and readjusting the straps on his backpack just to stall for time. He didn’t want to wait outside. Out in the open. Where anyone could get to him…

“Hey!”

At the sudden voice, Frank flinched and slammed forward into the locker on his own this time. He heard a bout of giggling and felt his cheeks burn with shame. One day back and everyone was treating him as though he had never gone. Boys and girls both this time.

Usually the girls didn’t acknowledge him enough to giggle at him without their male counterparts nearby though.

“Are you okay?”

Frank pulled himself out of his locker and twisted away from the hand he felt on his shoulder. He didn’t know who was touching him, but he didn’t like it. No one who ever touched him here was kind or good. If someone was touching him, it more likely than not meant he was going to be shoved back into his locker. 

“You’re…you’re Frank, right?”

Frank dared to turn his face away from the locker—already cringing in fear of a punch directed at his face—and then fell backwards when his eyes landed on the girl standing mere inches behind him. 

“Right?” The girl said again. 

“Um… Y-yeah. Yes?” Frank stammered, swallowing hard. 

It was the girl he’d seen at the start of the day, the one with the black hoodie with angel wings stenciled on the back in white. 

“Hi,” the girl said, smiling at him—a huge, cheerful grin. Her cheeks were flushed a light pink, her eyes were bright—practically glowing—and Frank had never seen anyone so happy to see him in his life. “I’m Jamia. I transferred here last week.”

“That’s…that’s um. H-Hi?” Frank swallowed hard and looked down the hall. Mikey was _still_ missing.

“Sorry—I’m probably creeping you out,” the girl said, giggling again. She was shifting uncomfortably and waving her arms back and forth in front of her anxiously. “Are you okay?”

“I-I’m…Yeah, I’m fine,” Frank said, swallowing hard again and running his fingers through his bangs and pushing them out of his face. “Um… Can—Uh… D-do you need…need my help with something?” He didn’t know what to say to her. The only person he ever talked to before was Mikey, and even though he had now added Gerard and Donna to his social circle (Don hardly acknowledged Frank and Frank treated him with similar disinterest) he still didn’t know how to properly socialize. Especially not with pretty girls—or any girls. Girls never talked to him except for when they were giggling behind his back. 

“Oh—No, I just… Haha, I just wanted to say hi.” The girl was smiling at him _still,_ and was now laughing more at herself than anything else. 

“Hi,” Frank repeated, his tone showing all of his suspicions despite his best efforts to hide it. After what happened with Kyle, he would never be fooled so easily again. 

“Um, so I know this is kind of awkward, but—”

“So what’s going on over here?” All of a sudden Mikey cut in between them, shutting Frank’s locked for him and fixing Jamia with a cold stare Frank had only ever seen Mikey bestow on the cruelest of bullies. 

“Nothing,” Frank said, watching as Jamia’s smile immediately disappeared. She was chewing on her bottom lip, her big eyes going downcast to scan the floor. “We’re just talking.”

“Well we need to go home,” Mikey said, looking from Frank back to Jamia and then stepping aside to go to his own locker. 

“Okay,” Frank said, turning to follow Mikey with his eyes and then looking back to Jamia. “Sorry,” he said, not sure if an apology would fix anything. Mikey had cut her off and Frank hadn’t defended her. Girls only talked to guys who would stick up for them… 

“Oh, no it’s fine—I was just going to say…yeah, it was nice meeting you.” Before Frank could ever reply, Jamia flashed another one of her priceless smiles, waved and then backed a step away. She turned and hurried down the hall, leaving Frank behind. 

“Mikey?” Frank asked, turning around to face his friend who slammed his locker hard. Immediately, Frank lost his vigor and ducked his head. Mikey was in no mood to discuss anything.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

_“What?_ Are you pissed off now because I interrupted your little rendezvous with the new girl?”

“I’m not mad,” Frank said, following his friend down the hallway and out the front doors. Frank couldn’t stop himself from scanning the yard and sidewalk for Jamia, but she was nowhere to be seen. “I just…wondered why.”

“Why? Because you don’t _need_ that right now.”

“Need what? A friend?”

“What did I tell you before?”

“What? About _what?”_ Frank asked, keeping his head ducked as he walked down the street. 

“Girls—people like _her._ They act like your friend, but they’re _not._ Last week she was with some guys at lunch watching that _stupid_ video. She’s just making fun of you.”

“She saw that?” Frank asked, his heart sinking. He felt a terrible pain grip his chest and he fought hard to keep tears from rising in his eyes. 

“Yeah—everyone’s seen that video.”

“But I wasn’t even at school. Why would they be—”

“You’re the laughingstock of the entire school. You don’t have to be here to get picked on.”

“Thanks,” Frank said, swallowing hard and rubbing at his face to wipe away the tears before Mikey could see them. 

“Thanks? For wh—Frank, seriously. Don’t start crying.”

“Leave me alone,” Frank said, walking a little faster and then breaking into a run when he heard Mikey coming up behind him. 

“Frank, come on! I didn’t mean it like that!” 

Frank ran faster—darting around the corner of the block and weaving through the streets until he lost Mikey. He had nowhere in mind to hide. If he went to the park, Mikey would no doubt stop there to look for him. He wouldn’t go home to Donna looking this pathetic and he had no desire to go to the Spend N Save and seek out Gerard for comfort.

Gerard would probably just say the same thing as Mikey—he was a joke and it was his own fault for being naïve and stupid. If he weren’t so dumb, Kyle wouldn’t have gotten then chance to take advantage of him. 

So Frank kept running, holding onto the straps of his backpack so it would stop slamming against his back and keeping his head low so the people he passed couldn’t see the tears on his face.

He was so pathetic. So stupid. So idiotic. Even his best friend didn’t like him anymore—not that that was a surprise. He’d known it would happen. He’d always tried to cut Mikey out before Mikey cut _him_ out, but he’d always come crawling back. And why? So he could get a few more days of compassion before getting knocked on his face? 

Frank finally stopped running when his lungs had swelled with pain and the sidewalks had turned from well-kept to cracked and overgrown. When he started walking, he glanced up and saw that grim apartment buildings lined both sides of the street and the only other people around were a group of men in over-sized sweats standing around the corner of the street ahead of him. 

Fearing that turning around would draw attention to him and make the men charge him—attempt to rob him even though he had nothing at all worth money—and crossed the street instead. He decided he would walk up to the next street and circle the block. He would find somewhere to hide, somewhere not the ghetto, and then go home just before dark. He didn’t care that he would more likely than not miss dinner. He’d gotten lunch and one missed meal wouldn’t kill him. 

Donna would probably be angry, but it hardly mattered now. The pain in his chest tripled as the reality sank in. Mikey didn’t _actually_ like him. He probably never had. Donna probably didn’t like him that much either. Don didn’t bother to hide his indifference to Frank’s existence in the home and Gerard…Gerard knew Frank was nothing more than a pathetic thief.

Maybe, Frank thought as he rounded the corner of the block, he should just run away. He was used to being hungry and even if it was getting colder outside every day, he had on his winter coat. It was even waterproof. 

There was no reason to go back. After all, it would just be better for everyone in the end.

“Hey!”

Frank froze on the spot and looked behind him, expecting to see the men from before standing at the corner. But the street was empty.

“Frank! Hey!” 

He heard someone giggling and he looked forward again. Jamia was sitting on the stoop outside one of the apartment buildings, waving at him with one hand and holding a cigarette in the other. 

“What are you doing out here?” She had her backpack sitting beside her on the steps and Frank slowly started toward her. If she was going to make fun of him, he may as well just speed up the process. “Hey…are you okay?” When he got close enough, she saw his reddened face. 

It was for the best, Frank guessed. If she was going to pick on him, he may as well give her everything to torment at once. He was pathetic. He was a crybaby. He was a fucking sodomite and had been stupid enough to let someone get it on video. 

“I’m fine,” Frank mumbled, coming to stand before her on the steps. 

“You look like you could use a smoke,” she said, taking a drag from her cigarette and fixing him with a curious stare, her eyes narrowed but not quite angry. It was if she were pondering over him. 

“I don’t—”

“Don’t be a pansy. Here.” She pulled a pack of menthols out of the pocket of her hoodie, holding her cigarette between her lips. She pulled one out of the box and lit it, then handed it to him. “It’ll calm you down,” she said in a tempting tone of voice as she waved it back and forth before him.

Frank guessed it didn’t matter if he got lung cancer. He would probably die by his own hands—or his mother’s—long before then anyway. And if not, one cigarette couldn’t possibly hurt.

It wasn’t like Jamia was going to take video of him smoking it and show it to the cops to get him in trouble. He sank down beside her on the steps and held the cigarette awkwardly in his fingers. He tried to hold it between his index and middle finger like he saw people doing on TV but dropped it. Jamia laughed at him then and picked it up. After making sure it was still lit she grabbed Frank’s hand as well, holding her cigarette between her lips again, and started moving his fingers into the right position to hold it. 

“Wow, Frankie—I’ve never had to show anyone how to _hold_ a smoke before.”

He thought to say he was sorry, but held back. He had no reason to apologize. 

“Now just…just take a drag and try not to cough too much.”

“Cough too much?” Frank asked, watching as Jamia made a display of slow-motion sucking on her cigarette and then blowing out the smoke. 

He tried to do the same and, just as she’d predicted, began coughing and his eyes started watering from the irritation. 

“There you go—that’s it. Let it all out,” she said, laughing a little and then stubbing out her cigarette on the steps. “Now this time, try to hold it in a little bit before coughing up your lung. Yeah—like that. You’ll get used to it.” 

Frank sniffed and tried to prepare himself to take another drag. He’d never smoked before and he felt he was doing a terrible job. 

“So what brings you out this way?” Jamia asked. 

“Nothing,” Frank said. She looked at him skeptically and Frank caved. She was going to bully him anyway. It didn’t matter what he said. “Mikey,” he confessed. 

“Did you guys get in a fight?” She asked. 

“I guess. He doesn’t want me talking to you,” Frank said.

“Wow,” Jamia said, her eyebrows shooting up as her lips pursed in irritation. “Why not? What the hell’s his problem?” Her sweet personality had disappeared, only to be replaced with spirit worthy of the image her black hoodie and dark-wash skinny jeans gave off. 

“He says…you saw the video,” Frank said, looking down at the cigarette in his hand and then taking another drag. This time, he hardly even coughed. 

“Yeah…”

“So you did?”

“Yeah,” she said, her tone exactly the same as the first time. Awkward, not quite embarrassed, but uncomfortable. “You know, it’s not that big of a deal. You sucked a guy’s dick? So what? You’re getting more action than half the assholes at school. They’re all just jealous.”

Frank was taken aback by her response and ended up staring at her. Her gaze was fixed on the building across the street, but when she turned to look at him she didn’t seem disturbed by the fact he was staring. 

“Still sucks though—that he filmed you. You shouldn’t let it get to you though. It’s high school. Give ‘em all a few months and they’ll find someone else to tease.”

“So why did you come talk to me after school?” Frank asked. “No one… No one talks to me.”

“Probably because they’re scared of your creepy friend. What the hell was his problem? Kid almost knocked me over so he could slam your locker shut. I mean, who even _does_ that?”

She was dodging the question and Frank couldn’t figure out why. 

“Is there something you wanted?” Frank asked, pushing just a little harder.

“Well… This will sound weird no matter how I put it so, I’m just going to throw it out there. I’m new to town— _obviously._ I don’t have any friends, the girls here are bitches…you’re a gay guy so you’re the next best thing. And I know that’s insensitive and it’s stereotyping, but you seem really sweet and I think we could be good friends.”

“Friends?” Frank asked, dumbfounded. He and Mikey had become friends after sharing an interest in similar music and movies—although Frank had mostly lied about the films he’d seen and music he’d heard since Momma didn’t let him hear anything she deemed sinful—and it hadn’t happened because one of them had bluntly asked to become friends.

“Yeah. Us freaks have to stick together you know?” She smiled at him and giggled, then her face started to look concerned. Frank hadn’t realized he’d started frowning until she pointed it out. “Sorry—I didn’t mean you were a freak. Like, not _really._ It was a joke.”

“It’s fine,” Frank said. “I just…don’t know what you mean.” He quickly took another drag of the cigarette in his hand in an attempt to hide his nerves.

“Oh,” Jamia said. “I mean…you’ve got a Misfits t-shirt on under your coat. I’ve got the same t-shirt in my room—”

“It’s Gerard’s,” Frank blurted out.

“What?”

“It’s Gerard’s shirt. Not mine. Mine are…” He wanted to say too small, but that wasn’t exactly right. They were just starting to get a little tighter and he didn’t like it. He was used to clothes that sagged on his shoulders and Gerard’s clothes…well, they were just right.

“Aw—you wear your boyfriend’s clothes? That’s so cute—that’s _awesome._ ”

“He’s…No, he’s not my boyfriend. I live with him and Mikey. My mom…” No. He was not going to tell some stranger about his mom. “I moved in with Mikey and his family. They’re like my brothers.”

“Oh—oh! That’s awkward that I said… Oh wow. Ha ha! Sorry.” She flashed him another one of those priceless smiles and Frank looked away quickly, taking a final puff on the cigarette and then stubbing it out on the step. “That’s cute, then—wearing your brother’s clothes.” She giggled and Frank started rubbing his face, trying to hide the way her voice made him blush. Somehow she didn’t seem to notice that it was because of her. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’ve made you so embarrassed. I promise we won’t talk about it anymore.”

“So…So you…you live around here?” Frank asked, quickly trying to change the subject.

“Huh? Oh… Yeah,” Jamia said, rolling her eyes and then looking over her shoulder at the apartment building. “Third floor. It was a bitch to carry everything up the stairs.”

“Mm. I can imagine.”

“It sucks.”

“You probably miss your old place,” Frank said, not really sure how to make small talk but feeling like he was doing an okay job. He was afraid to ask anything too serious because he didn’t want to make her angry or offend her, but he was scared that if he acted uninterested in her personal life that she might think he didn’t actually care.

“Not really. The place was a drag. _This_ place is a drag, but the school seems better.”

“Oh yeah?” Frank asked, surprised to hear anyone say his school was anything other than unpleasant. 

“I mean, you’re there,” she said. She flashed him another one of those smiles and Frank felt his face start burning again. 

It wasn’t the only thing either…

But as soon as Frank acknowledged that the front of his jeans was getting a little tighter, an immediate bolt of fear shot down his spine—vicious images returned to his mind and blotted out every positive feeling in his soul. As quickly as his arousal came, it left him; it was replaced with nausea and he had to swallow hard against the sudden lump in his throat, his tongue dry and sticking to the roof of his mouth.

“Whoa, are you okay? You got really pale all of a sudden. Do you need…like a cup of water or something? It was the cigarette, wasn’t it? It made you sick…”

“I’m fine,” Frank said, the words coming out a little bit slurred. “I’m sorry—what were you saying?”

“What? Oh… Um. I was saying school wasn’t so bad because…because you’re there.”

“But I just came back today,” Frank muttered, still feeling like he was about to throw up. He was lightheaded and dizzy, but he doubted Jamia would be so excited to be around him if he let himself pass out on the front steps of her building. 

“Well that doesn’t matter.” Suddenly her hand was on his back, rubbing in small, soothing circles. “Us queers gotta stick together, you know? I didn’t have that at my old school. All the gay kids were in the closet. Well, not _all_ of them. There was this one guy but he was a complete spazz. Liked to make all the straight guys uncomfortable. Gives everyone in our community a bad name, you know?”

“What?” Frank asked, looking at her with sad surprise. 

“What?” She asked, smiling at him. “I don’t know what…Ha ha—I don’t know what you missed.”

“You’re… You said that—that you’re… You—”

“I said ‘us queers gotta stick together,’” Jamia said, smiling at him and chuckling. “You are gay right? I mean—that was a guy you were sucking off in that clip not some girl with a dildo stuffed in her pants, right?”

“I…I’m not—I mean… I—I…” Frank stammered for a long moment, trying hard not to throw up or pass out or just completely shut down. His mind was divided between his completely dashed hopes that a girl as pretty as her would actually be interested in him, and the horrifying images of his mother and the memory of the pain she’d inflicted on him for entertaining the sick, sinful ideas he had in the back of his mind. 

“Are you okay?” Jamia asked again, patting his shoulder instead of rubbing his back. 

“Yeah—I… I’m sorry, I just… Um. I-I’m not… I’m not _gay,_ I just… I-If someone likes me, I don’t…don’t care if they’re not a girl.”

“Oh,” Jamia said, shrugging and sounding almost peppy. “So you’re bi. Okay. That’s cool. That’s _better._ We can scope out all the cute girls together too now.” She smiled at him and Frank tried to force one in return. “What? You look…really uncomfortable.”

“I just…I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” She asked, finally fixing him with a look Frank knew all too well—confused discomfort. He was making her uncomfortable and it would be best for both of them if he stepped away now before she realized he was a freak—and in the way she wanted. “What do you have a crush on me already?”

“N-no, it’s not that,” Frank stammered. “I just feel lightheaded. I’m dizzy.”

“Oh. That’s the cigarette. You’ve really never smoked before?”

“No—never. Momma would _kill_ me if she found out.”

“Is she really strict?” Jamia asked, crinkling her nose as if in disgust but smiling at the same time. He really liked the way her face looked when she smiled…

“Yeah. She…she has a lot of rules.”

“But you…stay with Mikey? Right? That’s what you said.”

“Yeah.” Frank hoped his facial expression showed that he didn’t want to talk about it, but his sadness just seemed to pique her interest. 

“She doesn’t…she doesn’t hurt you, right? I’m sorry, you just look really upset all of a sudden.”

Frank looked over at her out of the corner of his eye and saw compassion and concern on her face. He wanted to confide in her, but to what end? What could she do? There was no way telling her could help him, but there were hundreds of ways telling her could ruin him. She could share everything he said with the other kids at school. She’d seen the video. That meant she was close enough with the jocks to have them let her see. This could all just be some cruel trap to earn his trust and then expose him for the freak he was. 

She already knew he was so desperate that gender was no restriction in who he decided to pursue romantically. She knew he was easy enough that he would give a boy he hardly knew a blowjob on their first _encounter,_ not even a date. She didn’t need to know his mother was so repulsed by him that starving him and beating him was the only way she could find to cope with his existence. 

“Hey…Frank, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry or upset you. We don’t have to talk about it. We can…we can talk about The Misfits or Mrs. Psycho-Bitch in the office at school. My parents are at work so you can come upstairs if you want to. We can play with my dog.”

“You have a dog?” Frank asked, looking at her and feeling a small spark of delight rise from his stomach. 

“Yeah. He’s a pug. We just got him before the move.”

“I like dogs,” Frank said, wishing he could say something more articulate. Jamia seemed to understand him though and smiled. 

“Come on. You can’t stay long because my mom gets off work at four, but we can play with him for a little bit.” When she stood up from the steps, Frank stood with her and followed closely as she led him into the building. 

It had been years since he’d been able to pet a dog. The last time being a nice lady with a poodle who had come across him when he’d been hiding in the park one morning after his mother threw him out. The lady let him feed the dog a treat which earned him several sloppy kisses from the big white dog. That had been before he ever met Mikey. It had been such a brief, happy moment. Dogs, it seemed, were a great source of free affection. All it took was a gentle touch and a bit of food and they would love a person forever. They could love someone as useless and pathetic as Frank.


	20. Chapter 20

_Chapter 20_

Around the same time that Frank was lying on the floor of Jamia’s apartment, snuggling and playing with a round, jovial pug, his mother sat in another dim room with another strange man. She had been made to go with so many strange men since the morning she’d given her son to the strange woman who had found her at work…since the morning she had beaten her only son. 

She had been called a monster. A demon. Insensitive. Cruel. Godless. Wicked. Deranged. Brutal. _Unfeeling._ That label troubled her the most. They called her unfeeling yet she did have remorse for what she had done. From the moment the belt left her hand she had felt remorse. Not just because she knew she’d taken it too far, but because of the look her son had given her. 

That boy… He’d looked helpless. That evil gleam that was always in his eyes was gone for that moment. Whatever demon possessed him and made him behave so terribly left his body and left Frank to suffer the consequences. She’d never meant to hurt _Frank._ She just wanted him to stop. She wanted to keep him from forming a disgusting habit and entertaining lustful thoughts. She knew very well what lustful thoughts led men to do and she didn’t want to allow her son, the unwanted product of her womb, to become another one of those cruel creatures. 

But when she’d seen how hard he’d cried, when she saw how hard he tried to remain obedient and keep his legs spread despite the blows he would receive, she filled with pity for him. She did not blame him for telling the police what she had done, but she wished he understood that she could never have any love for him after he so willingly handed her over to the clutches of the strange men.

“Mrs. Iero?”

Linda stared at the table, refusing to look up at the man. To look at him would be to invite him into her mind—grant him access to her thoughts and allow him to read her like a book. 

“Mrs. Iero? My name is Dr. Steven Belmonte. I’m a psychologist. Do you know why I’m here?”

Linda shook her head no even though she knew very well why the doctor had been sent. He was a consultant, he explained to her. Sent by her attorney to analyze her mental state in order to help build her defense. 

“I need to ask you some questions, Mrs. Iero. Are you willing to work with me?” Dr. Belmonte asked.

Linda maintained her silence and stared down at the table. 

“Alright… Linda—Can I call you Linda?”

_“No,”_ she said bitterly. 

“Alright. Mrs. Iero, let’s talk about Monday, September fifteenth. Do you remember that morning?”

“Yes.” That was the morning she’d caught her son being sinful—listened at the door so she wouldn’t have to see him release his seed. She could tell he’d been trying to keep his voice quiet, but there was no mistaking the sound of his hand pleasuring his own length—the sick, disgusting wet sound. And the _awful_ groan he’d let out when he finished would be forever branded in Linda’s brain. That sick, disgusting whine…

“Let’s talk about that morning, Mrs. Iero. What time did you wake up?”

“Early,” she said. “Before I would have liked.”

“What woke you?”

“My son.”

“Frank?”

“Yes.”

“How did he wake you?”

Linda felt her lip curl in disgust at the memory. 

“I heard those sounds coming through the wall.”

“What sounds?” 

She hadn’t told the other officers or her attorney what she had caught her son doing. She feared it might shame the boy, but now—after being caged like an animal and deprived of light and dignity—she kept no secrets. 

So she told him what she’d heard and how it had filled her with disgust. 

“Was this the first time you’d ever caught him doing this?” Dr. Belmonte asked. 

“No.”

“What did you do the first time you caught him?”

“I told him it was sinful and that he shouldn’t be doing it. And that if I caught him doing it again, he would be punished.”

“Did you tell him how he would be punished?”

“No.”

“Did you already know what you planned to do if you caught him a second time?”

“No.”

“No?”

Linda paused and then shook her head. “I thought I might…spank him or…whip his hands so he wouldn’t be able to do that again. And he might think twice before acting on lustful thoughts.”

“Mrs. Iero, can I ask why you’re so against this behavior? It’s completely natural in a boy his age.”

Natural. What a disgusting word. _Natural…_ It was in his “nature” to behave in such a filthy way. He was nothing more than a glorified animal if he gave in to his _nature._ But Linda doubted the psychologist would think so. 

“It’s sinful. _I_ never acted that way when I was a girl.”

“You say it’s sinful…you believe it goes against God?”

“It’s a filthy habit and I won’t have it done in my house,” Linda said. 

Dr. Belmonte sighed heavily and leaned forward at the table. 

“Mrs. Iero, what went through your mind just before you started hitting Frank?”

“That he was sinful and he needed to learn not to act on lust like an _animal._ ”

“When did you decide where you were going to hit him?”

“I don’t know,” Linda said, turning her face away. 

“When you first heard the noises coming from his room, what went through your mind?—other than what he was doing was sinful?”

“How I would make him stop. I just wanted him to stop.”

“Did you think that you could’ve knocked on his door and told him?”

“No.”

“No?”

“I needed to make him stop _for good._ ”

“Stop him from masturbating or stop him from having sex?”

Linda paused and pursed her lips. That was a question she did not know the answer to. 

Her intention was only to keep everyone _safe_ from Frank. She knew what boys were capable of, especially boys filled to the brim with sin and lust. 

“Answer the question, Mrs. Iero.”

“I don’t want him acting on lust,” Linda said. “Ever.”

“That’s not what I asked you.”

“I don’t want my son to be sinful,” Linda said. 

“Mrs. Iero, was your intention to harm your son so that he could never engage in sexual activity?”

Linda refused to answer. She didn’t know the answer to that question. The thought that her son would grow up to force himself on helpless girls whenever he wasn’t busying himself with the shafts of his fellow man made her sick to her stomach. If she could do something to stop him from defiling an innocent girl, then she would do it. And she had. 

“Mrs. Iero, what is it about your son that makes you so angry?”

“He’s a sodomite.”

“You abused your son long before that video was taken,” Dr. Belmonte said, his tone disapproving.

“He’s a boy,” Linda muttered. “And I know what boys grow up to do.”

She must’ve said something profound to the doctor because he jotted something down on his little notepad. Linda clicked her tongued and turned her face farther away from him, almost looking over her should at the wall behind her.

“What do boys grow up to do?”

“Force themselves on girls. Defile them. Impregnate them with more men… _Leave._ ”

“You feared your son would grow up to be a rapist?”

_“All_ men are rapists. Every last one of them,” Linda said, turning to look the doctor in the eye so he would know she was aware of his sin. 

“Were you sexually assaulted?”

“Do I have a child?” She asked sarcastically.

“You were raped by your husband?”

Linda looked away again. She did not want to think about that man. That sick, charming man. She’d been helpless in his wake. It was either marry the man when he asked or live with Mother forever… Linda had had no choice. She married the charming snake and let him have his way with her in any sinful way he asked. Then he’d forced her to conceive a child…and then left her to deal with it when she no longer entertained his sinful games once the boy was born. A mother should never be a sexual being. Her purpose has already been served. 

The man hadn’t felt the same and left…left her with the child he forced her to birth and keep despite all her pleas and tears. 

Then Mother came and further shamed her. Blamed her for her own plight and said that had she been a good, pure girl she would’ve stayed at home with her mother and not run off with the man. If she’d been a pure girl, she wouldn’t have been stuck with a wailing toddler, a clinging child, a sinful teenager…

“Mrs. Iero? We’re you sexually assaulted by your husband?”

“No,” she confessed. Perhaps if she had been she wouldn’t need to feel so much self-loathing. Perhaps if the man had taken her by force, perhaps if she hadn’t let herself cave in to his lustful praises, she would not need to feel so much shame. 

“Then why was your response to my question that you’d had a child?”

“Because I didn’t want a child. He _made_ me have that child. I didn’t want him. I _never_ wanted him. He’s _evil._ ”

“Who is evil?”

“Men. _Men,_ ” Linda repeated, looking at Dr. Belmonte in the eyes once more. “And Mother. I told her I couldn’t have a child and she forced me to do it. I told her I would have an abortion and she kept me in her house. Wouldn’t let me leave. She and the man kept—”

“The man being your husband?”

“My husband… They kept me in Mother’s spare room.”

“They locked you in a room during your pregnancy?”

“It was never locked, but I knew I couldn’t leave. Mother listens to everything. If I tried to leave she would come upstairs and start her _ranting._ I would’ve given anything to just punch her in the mouth and shut her up. And if she wasn’t there belittling me, my husband came to assure me that a child was _good_ for us. It would _better_ us and save our marriage. He _promised_ he wouldn’t leave me if I had that baby.”

Linda blinked rapidly as she felt the tears well in her eyes. He promised her. He held her hand, kissed her fingers just by her diamond wedding ring, and promised her that he would never leave and she had nothing to fear. 

“Do you hurt Frank because your husband left you?” 

He held her hand and kissed her fingers just by her diamond wedding ring…as she screamed and cried and expelled that awful, bloody demon from her body. He held her hand and kissed her fingers just by her diamond wedding ring as she wept and pleaded with the doctors not to give that thing back to her. He held her hand and kissed her fingers just by her diamond wedding ring as she was forced to let the demon suckle her breast—draining her life-force from her. He held her hand, kissed her fingers just by her diamond wedding ring, and promised he would never leave her. 

And then he was gone and had left her with the child. The child that had his name, his face, his eyes, his hair, his skin…his _lust._

Linda Iero would sooner rot in hell than allow her son to go on to torture some young girl with his sins the way his father had done. 

“Mrs. Iero?”

Linda turned her eyes back to Dr. Belmonte, no longer having the energy to resist him. 

“Why didn’t you give your son up for adoption or ask for help from a relative after your husband left?”

“Don’t you know what they do to children in foster care?” Linda asked. “You see it on the news all the time. They…rape them—those men. Even the boys. I won’t let someone rape my son.”

“Mrs. Iero, the punishment you gave him was a _sexual_ assault. It carries with it all of the same emotions and trauma that a rape would have. How does that make you feel?”

“How does _what_ make me feel?” Linda asked, still trying to fight back tears. 

“Knowing that your actions caused him the same feelings of shame and helplessness that you experienced when you were forced to endure with your pregnancy. That’s what you wanted to spare him from, isn’t it? That’s why you didn’t want him in foster care?—because you didn’t want a man to violate him the way you were violated?”

“I never meant to hurt my son,” Linda said. They were the same words she’d told her mother whom she had called immediately after her senses returned that morning. 

“Then why did you keep hitting him after the first time? He had to have begged you to stop. Why didn’t you stop?” When Linda didn’t answer, he asked her again. “What did you feel when you heard him crying? Did it please you?”

“No,” Linda said, quickly shaking her head. The image of her son’s face contorted in pain, his cheeks wet and red, his mouth open. The sounds of his cries plagued her every night when she slept in her cold bunk in the jail. They reminded her of her own cries when she had given birth to him. 

“Did it hurt you?”

“Yes.”

“But you didn’t take him to the hospital…”

“I didn’t know he was hurt,” Linda whispered. 

“He threw up in the bathroom—he told us you came in to make sure he got ready for school. Then you made him walk to school…”

The doctor was trying so hard to make her out to be some kind of a monster. But that was just like men… Of course Frank had done nothing wrong to deserve a beating. It was “in his nature” to be sinful and lustful. 

“What did you feel when Mrs. Way came to tell you she was taking your son?”

“Happy.”

“You were happy?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because someone was taking him away from me—a _woman._ Not a man…”

“Is it important to you that a woman has custody of Frank?”

“A woman won’t rape my child.”

“Why are you afraid that men want to rape your son?”

“Because that’s what men do.”

“Alright…” He asked her more questions, but Linda had stopped listening. She wondered about Frank. He’d been hospitalized. He’d had surgery because of her. When she’d picked up her belt that morning, she’d never thought this would happen. When she’d cleaned up for work, she expected a call from the school and to have them tell her bullies had injured her son. That was how it always went. Frank always protected her.

But not this time. 

So what was he doing now that he was free of her? He couldn’t be lustful or sinful—only pure. Only innocent. He would be a good boy. She fixed him. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank stepped slowly into the Way family’s house, not sure what to expect. Donna was standing over the oven in the kitchen, stirring a pot on the burner. When she heard the door open, she turned to look at him and the expression on her face and in her eyes was one Frank knew well. As soon as her eyes met his, Frank sank his teeth into his bottom lip as hard as he could and froze in the doorway. 

“You were supposed to come home after school, Frank,” Donna said. Her tone was level, but the look in her eyes as she spoke made the words as forceful as a yell. 

Frank’s stomach immediately tightened and when he tried to swallow the lump in his throat he nearly gagged. Donna was mad at him. The only woman who ever showed him kindness, the only person who ever reciprocated his words of love and affection, was angry with him. In her eyes he didn’t see irritation or annoyance. He saw wrath. 

His instincts told him to turn and run—run out of the house and disappear before she could hurt him. Frank knew he’d given her all the power in the world over him as soon as he’d whispered that he loved her. She didn’t need to hit him or raise her voice to hurt him. All she had to do was tell him the things he already knew—that he was a disappointment, that he was a waste, that he was disrespectful, that he didn’t deserve anyone’s love let alone hers…

“You need to come home when I ask you. If you’re going to stay out, have Mikey call me or stop here _first_ and then go out. I don’t want to run all over this town looking for you.”

“I’m sorry,” Frank whispered, unable to look her in the eye. 

“Go put your bag away and wash up for dinner.” Donna turned back to the oven, and even though she was no longer looking at him, Frank couldn’t bring himself to move.

“I’m not really hungry,” Frank said quietly, his stomach still tight and queasy. He had no appetite when he was in trouble and any attempt to eat would just make him throw up. He didn’t want to do that in front of Donna… She hated him enough already.

“Put your bag away and _wash up for dinner.”_

Tears rushed him and Frank ducked his head as he hurried to his basement bedroom. He slipped on the last step and faltered, dropping to his knees painfully on the concrete floor. As soon as he struck the ground he let out the sob that had been strangling him, feeling the shame eat away at him. 

“Shit! Hey—Hey, what’s the matter?”

Before he could even sit up on his own, Frank felt warm arms around him, pulling him up from the ground. 

“How far did you fall?”

Frank shook his head and tried to pull away from Gerard. He didn’t want anyone to see him this way, and he knew if Gerard understood why he was crying he would probably shove him aside. 

“Stop—What’s the matter? How far did you fall?”

“Just the last step,” Frank muttered, wiping at his face and still trying to pull away from Gerard.

_“Really?_ It sounded a lot louder… Are your knees okay? Can you stand up?”

Gerard started trying to get him to his feet, but Frank couldn’t get his legs under him. They were shaking badly, not just from the fall. 

“Frank, what’s going on?” Gerard started rubbing Frank’s back but it wasn’t enough to comfort him—not now that he’d dashed his chances of staying happily in this home. Angering Donna, disappointing her, proved to the woman how unworthy he was of her kindness. He knew he hadn’t done anything bad enough to be asked to leave, but to anger her so quickly after moving in devastated him. He wanted the chance to be a good child—to earn love…

He would never be worthy of love. Not from Donna. Not from anyone.

“Why are you crying?” Gerard kept asking, nudging Frank’s arm and patting his back and shoulder.

“Made Donna mad at me,” Frank managed to choke out, just so Gerard would quit asking him and reminding him.

“Mom? No—Frank, she’s not _mad_ at you. You _scared_ her.”

“No, she’s _mad_ at me,” Frank cried. Gerard hadn’t seen that look in her eyes. He didn’t _know_ how angry she was, even if she kept her voice low. 

“She’s mad at _Mikey_ who just got three days In School Suspension for back talking that asshole math teacher, and then you _scared_ her when you didn’t come home.” 

“She’s mad at me,” Frank repeated. It was the only thought in his head. All the good feelings he’d gotten from becoming friends with Jamia and playing with her dog had fled him. He felt guilty for ever even thinking he had a right to be happy. Donna had told him and Mikey that morning to come home after school…but Momma had never cared what time he’d come home after school as long as he eventually returned so she couldn’t be accused of neglect. It never even occurred to him that Donna would mean _immediately_ after school. 

“Frank, she’s not _mad._ Do you want me to get her and have her tell you—”

“No!” Frank cried. He wasn’t going to have Gerard bring her down here so she could look at him with the same disgust his mother got whenever his crying disturbed her. 

“Okay, you’re acting like a four-year-old right now. I know you’re upset and I know you don’t want her mad at you, but I swear—she’s _not angry._ You don’t need to cry.”

Gerard could repeat it as many times as he’d like, but it didn’t make it true. 

“Boys, I’m serving dinner,” Donna called from the top of the stairs. 

Frank flinched at the sound of her voice and allowed Gerard to hold him close against his chest. Even when Gerard started to stand, Frank moved with him in an attempt to find security. Maybe Donna was mad…but Gerard wasn’t. 

He would be, though, if Frank didn’t quit blubbering like an infant. 

“I don’t want to eat,” Frank whispered, wrapping his arms around Gerard’s torso and clinging to him as if for dear life. “I don’t feel good—I’ll throw up and she’ll get mad at me.”

“She’s not going to get _mad_ at you. I’ve told you a hundred times—she was scared. She thought you ran off because you and Mikey were fighting and she didn’t know if you were coming back.”

“I don’t want to get sick,” Frank whimpered.

“Okay—Alright. Frank, don’t worry about it. I’ll talk to her. Why don’t you…you just lay down for a little bit. Okay? I’ll talk to my mom.”

Frank let Gerard guide him to his bed and laid down, slipping off his shoes and coat and then burrowing down into his bed sheets. Gerard helped straighten Frank’s blankets and even gave him one last gentle touch—a stroke of the hair—before going upstairs. Frank listened to the voices upstairs, but tried not to focus on the words Donna said or her tone. 

He couldn’t bear the thought that she was unhappy with him. Her disappointment was worse than any beating, any insult, any level of neglect. Even if he really hadn’t done much wrong—and he _knew_ he was overreacting which just added to his torment—Donna was unhappy and _he_ had caused her to feel that way.

It was his fault. Everything was his fault.

( ) ( ) ( )

“You just don’t get it!” Gerard exclaimed, keeping his voice low so Frank wouldn’t hear. “I know you’re mad because Mikey got ISS and Frank irritated you, but he can’t _take_ that right now.”

“I didn’t yell at him, Gerard. All I said was for him to get cleaned up for dinner.” She was acting as though nothing had happened—that was her defense mechanism. On a typical day it kept fights from escalating, but with Frank around their entire family dynamic had been knocked head over heels. 

“He’ll _throw up_ if you make him eat right now. He’s having an anxiety attack.” 

His mother sighed and stopped working on filling the plates with food. 

“I didn’t even yell at him, Gerard. I had to tell him it’s not okay to go off and not tell me where he is. Just because he panics doesn’t mean I can’t tell him the rules of this house. I told him and Mikey to come _straight home_ after school. Frank didn’t come back—”

“I know that. Ma, I know—but we’ve gotta find a better way to talk to him about things like this. He’s tearing himself apart over this and _nothing even happened.”_

“What do you want me to do? Do you want me to go down there and apologize?”

“I don’t know,” Gerard said, shaking his head. It hurt to see Frank so upset and to know that there really wasn’t anything that could be done to help him. He was inflicting more pain on himself than anyone else possibly could. All of his self-worth, his self-confidence, his sense of security—all of it was invested in what _Donna_ thought of him. And if _Donna_ was unhappy then Frank was absolutely devastated. “I don’t really want to leave him by himself right now, though, so I think I’m just going to take a plate down and eat with him.”

“He could probably use some space, Gerard,” his mother said, going back to dishing out food and carrying the glassware to the dining room table where Mikey and Don were sat. 

“Mom, he’s suicidal. He can’t be left alone when he’s upset.”

“What?” His mother set the dishes down and gestured for Don and Mikey to serve themselves, then ushered Gerard back into the kitchen. “When did he tell you that?”

“He doesn’t have to say it, I just know.”

“Gerard—”

“When the social worker told him his grandmother was going to get custody of him, he said he would _drink bleach_ if they sent him to her. Drink. _Bleach._ That’s not a normal thing to say—that’s not a normal ‘I don’t want to go, I’m going to say something fuckin’ dramatic to change your mind’ kind of thing. And I’ve asked him before if he was thinking about harming himself and he just shrugged.”

“I’ll have to tell the therapist about that before I drop Frank off at her office tomorrow.”

“His therapist is a woman?” Gerard asked. For some reason, he didn’t see that going very well. 

“Yes. Why? Is that a problem?”

“I don’t know,” Gerard said, grabbing a plate and moving from the kitchen to the dining room to fill his plate. He gave himself extra large portions so he could coax Frank into sharing with him once the boy’s stomach had settled, and made a point to skip the meat portion of their dinner knowing Frank wouldn’t like it.

“It must be a problem or you wouldn’t bring it up,” his mother said.

“I just feel like Frank’s not going to want to talk about his mom beating him with another woman. He’s…kind of scared of you people.”

“Us people?” Donna snapped.

“Women—Frank’s scared of women.”

“Oh, what makes you think that?”

“I tell him he’s bugging me all the time when he won’t fuckin’ sleep at night and he doesn’t have a panic attack about it. All you have to do is give him that look and he’s in hysterics.”

“What look?”

_“That_ look,” Gerard said, grabbing two forks from the drawer and heading back for the basement. “It’s terrifying.”

“Oh shut up,” his mother said, rolling her eyes and taking the last of the dishes out to the dining room. 

Gerard headed down the stairs to the basement where he was pleased to find Frank still lying in bed, not curled up in a ball by the washing machine convulsing in pain from swallowing bleach. 

“Mom’s not mad at you,” Gerard said, even though he knew it wouldn’t console the younger boy. He came to sit at the foot of Frank’s bed and started eating, trying to act calm and casual in hopes that Frank would pick up on his mood and start to calm down as well. 

“I feel really sick,” Frank whispered.

“Do you want some water?”

Frank didn’t answer, and to Gerard that said enough. He set his plate down beside him on the bed, lying both forks on the dish before getting up from the bed. Frank tried to tell him he didn’t need to go get him anything, but Gerard didn’t listen. The boy needed to learn that asking for help or for a favor wasn’t a cause to be hated. 

So Gerard got him a cup of ice water and carried it down to him. Frank accepted it graciously, and finished half of the glass before setting it aside and laying back down, curling up under the blankets. 

“Your first counseling appointment is tomorrow,” Gerard said, just to make conversation as he sat back down on Frank’s bed, this time closer to his hips than his feet.

“Are they going to tell Donna what I say?”

“No. They’ll say some things, like their analysis or whatever, but they can’t say what you’ve told them.”

“If they say what they think of me, that’s the same thing…”

“No, not really.” Gerard picked up his plate and started eating again, looking down at Frank every now and then to see the expression on his face. “Like…if you talk about, I don’t know… Say you hate my mom’s cooking, but you don’t want to tell her. The therapist might tell mom and the social workers that you’re having trouble communicating your feelings, but that’s it.”

“I don’t want Donna to know…and I don’t want the social workers to know.”

“Well you need help, so don’t just sit there in silence.”

Frank was quiet for a moment and then sighed heavily, trying to pull his blanket closer to his chin but unable with Gerard sitting on it. 

“How am I supposed to talk about Momma…if I know they’re just going to tell everyone what I say?”

“They’ll just tell everyone how to help you. They say the things you don’t know how to say.”

“They can’t help me,” Frank whispered. 

“Why do you say that?” 

Frank shrugged instead of answering and Gerard pondered over whether or not to pressure him into giving a real response. 

“Why don’t you think they can help?”

“I don’t know… I’m not… I don’t know.”

“You can tell me, Frank. I told you before—unless you say you’re going to hurt yourself or Mikey, I’m not telling anyone anything. So tell me, why don’t you think the therapist can help?”

“Because I don’t want to tell them those things…” Frank whispered, his voice so soft Gerard could barely hear it over the noise of his chewing. 

“What things?”

Frank looked up at him and Gerard felt a small knot of fear tighten in his stomach. He was asking with his eyes if he could trust Gerard, searching him for both compassion and deception. It was a lot of responsibility to take on the weight Frank carried on his shoulders, and Gerard knew nothing short of _intensive_ therapy could ever possibly help the boy. 

“What things, Frank?” Gerard asked. 

“A girl talked to me today,” Frank whispered.

“Oh yeah?”

“Her name’s Jamia…she’s really nice.”

“Is she the reason you didn’t come home for so long?”

“Yeah… She let me play with her dog until her mom got home.” 

“So what happened with Jamie-whoever.”

_“Jamia.”_

“Right. So what happened with Jamia?”

“She’s really pretty.”

“So ask her out.”

“She likes girls…”

“Oh. Well, I told you you’d eventually find more people like you.”

“Yeah…” Frank looked away and Gerard realized there was something more to the story he wasn’t sharing. 

“Come on, Frank. What’s the matter?” 

“It’s embarrassing…”

“What? Did you ask her out and have her shoot you down?”

“No.”

“Then what?” 

“She kept smiling at me and… She’s really pretty.” 

“Frank, I don’t—”

“She… I really liked her. It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s not embarrassing that you liked a girl who happened to be a lesbian. It’s the same as when I get a crush on a straight guy. It’s awkward for everyone but it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“That’s not what’s embarrassing though,” Frank whined. 

“Then _what?_ I’m not a mind-reader, Frank. Here—I’m done. Finish this.” Gerard set his plate down on the bed beside Frank’s face and was actually surprised when Frank propped himself up and started poking at the food, not even bothering to use the clean fork Gerard had given him. 

“She…she smiled at me and…the bad thing happened.”

“That _what_ happened?” Gerard asked. Frank had spoken it in such a soft mumble Gerard honestly hadn’t caught it.

“The _bad_ thing…”

“The _bad_ thing? What are you—” Then it hit him. Pretty girl. Smiling at him. Coveted by him. “What, you popped a boner for her and now you’re upset?”

“It’s sinful,” Frank whispered.

“No it’s not. Frank, your mom is _sick._ Nothing you did was _sinful._ Nothing you did was _wrong._ ”

Frank didn’t answer him and had settled into dragging his fork across the plate instead of actually gathering any food, the metal prongs making a horribly high-pitched screeched as they scratched across the porcelain.

“Frank…”

“What?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Still Frank didn’t respond to him. “Did Jamia see and make fun of you?”

“No…”

“Then why are you so upset?”

“Because I started to get sick,” Frank mumbled.

“From…from pain? You’ve got a lot going on there—”

“Because of Momma,” Frank said. “I thought about what Momma did and I started to feel really sick.”

Gerard cringed at the thought and shifted his weight on the bed. He’d had a feeling this might happen. Being hurt that way wasn’t the same as a slap to the face or a regular beating with the belt. It carried with it certain connotations. 

“Frank…what were you doing when your mom hurt you?”

Frank was quiet for a very long time before uttering simply “the bad thing.”

Gerard’s stomach tightened and he shook his head bitterly. That woman was sick. She’d ruined her son for life—for fucking life—with her insane obsession with sin. 

“Frank, you didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t deserve that no matter what you were doing,” Gerard said. 

Now that his secret was out, Frank stayed completely silent. He’d even stopped dragging his fork across the plate and just stared down at the food. 

“It’s… That’s just part of life for guys, you know? It…It does what it wants. You can’t control it.” He couldn’t believe he was sitting here having this discussion with a sixteen-year-old. Frank had to understand _rationally_ that he didn’t get a say in when a pretty girl’s smile piqued his interest. “It’s not a _bad_ thing. You’re not _bad,_ Frank.”

“If I didn’t do it…Momma wouldn’t be in jail.”

“Your mom is in jail because of choices _she_ made. Not choices you made. She chose to hurt you like that. She could’ve just knocked on the door and said to stop. She chose not to. She chose to hurt you. _That’s_ why she’s in jail; because she _chose_ to hit you so hard you needed a _hospital._ ”

“I know,” Frank said, blinking rapidly as tears fell down his cheeks. 

“So you don’t need to feel that you’ve been _bad_ or that you’ve done something wrong, Frank. You should… _Honestly,_ you should be happy everything still _works_ after what she did.”

“I wish it didn’t,” Frank said before sniffing and wiping his nose on his sleeve. 

“I know it’s tough for you right now, but trust me—one day you’re gonna meet that person, whether it’s a girl or a guy, and you’re going to be happy you can…do those things. It’s normal. It’ll make you _happy._ ”

“It’s sinful,” Frank whispered. 

“It’s _not_ sinful. “

Frank said nothing and tried to return to eating. He managed a few more bites before reaching for his glass of ice water and drinking the rest. He curled up in the bed again, setting the plate aside on the floor. 

“Frank?”

“I don’t want to talk anymore,” Frank said, his voice cracking. 

“Okay,” Gerard said, tracing the bedspread with his eyes and then looking at Frank’s face. The boy was still staring at him, wanting something—whether it was a hug or a kind word, or maybe even pressure to keep talking—but unable to ask. Carefully, almost out of instinct, Gerard reached out and stroked Frank’s hair. 

Frank flinched the second before Gerard reached him, but as soon as the contact was made and it didn’t hurt, Frank sighed and relaxed. 

“You’re a good kid, Frank.”

Frank stared at him then as though he had something he wanted to say, but kept his silence and closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was SUPPOSED to be happy. I swear! More fluff next time I promise!


	21. Chapter 21

_Chapter 21_

After two weeks with his therapist—a total of four visits—Frank’s obsession with Donna and pleasing her had only seemed to have gotten worse even though the counselor insisted it would wear off. Frank was still just “testing the boundaries,” she said; Frank was still just “taking it all in,” she said. Eventually he would come to the realization that Donna was not going to suddenly push him away one day and he didn’t have to worry that if he didn’t get all the affection he could now, that it would run out later. Or maybe, Donna decided, this was just the way it was going to be with Frank from now on. He was an affectionate boy, a loving child. 

He was never late home from school again after the day he’d met Jamia although he’d come home to ask permission to leave again to go visit said girl. If Donna was cooking, Frank was beside her. If Donna was cleaning the house, Frank was one step behind her. If Donna was sitting on the couch folding laundry, Frank was laying on her shoulder. 

She could do nothing without Frank clinging to her, and if he wasn’t with her then he was following Gerard around the house. 

It did intrigue Donna that Frank and Mikey’s friendship was more of an on-again, off-again situation. It seemed every other day the two would fight over something, then forgive each other the next day and return to being inseparable. At the dinner table they only seemed to talk to each other and after Frank finished clinging to Donna (who struggled to wash dishes with a teenage boy clutching at her back) he would go upstairs to Mikey’s room to badmouth their teachers or whatever else they did to get each other to laugh so much. 

On Monday of the second week, the social workers paid a visit during the afternoon while Frank was at school. Mrs. Iero, they said, had been found competent to stand trial but it was likely that she wouldn’t face actual jail time for her crimes. More likely than not she would be sent to a mental health facility since it had been uncovered that the woman suffered from severe depression along with several other illnesses. Donna assumed that would give Frank some comfort. He couldn’t stand the thought of his mother being locked up behind bars, so maybe the thought that his mother would be getting treated would soothe him. 

That following Friday, the social worker returned with the news Donna had been dreading from day one. They’d managed to track down Frank’s father. 

“So you’ll be taking him?” Donna asked, trying not to show how much it upset her. Frank was clingy and obsessive to the point that it was downright irritating beyond belief—but she’d gotten used to it. She didn’t want Frank out of her sight. The house wouldn’t be the same without him.

“Well… Ideally, we’d be sending him to live with his father so he could have the support of his family through the trial, but—well, that’s just not possible that this time,” the social worker said, sipping the cup of coffee Donna had given her upon her arrival. 

“Oh?”

“His father lives in a very small apartment with a woman who…” The social worker shook her head and took another sip of coffee. It was the same woman who came every week, Frank’s personal case worker, and she had gotten used to Donna enough to let her formalities drop a little bit. “Let’s just say it’s not a favorable home environment. There’s not enough room for him to move in.”

“You’re not putting Frank into foster care, right? We…we have room, he’s adjusted—he _likes_ it here.”

“I’ve put in good words to the agency for you and your family. We think it’s best Frank stays here, but you’ll have to go through a few classes, have another home check—just the basic things. There’s a lot of paperwork, too, but I don’t think there’s any reason we’d move him out. You’ve made an effort to take him to all of his appointments, you’ve made the follow-up doctor visits—we can tell you really care about him.”

“Well he’s…he’s like another son to me,” Donna said, flashing a smile. 

“He’s a sweet boy,” the social worker said. “Since he’s about to turn seventeen, also, it…it doesn’t make much sense to try to find a different home for him. Being older he’s not going to adjust so well to being moved around and…we feel that you’re one of the few families who would be willing to support him the way he needs after he’s turned eighteen.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about me throwing him out when he comes of age. I love that boy. I can’t stand to see him unhappy for a minute.”

“I’m starting to think he can’t stand to go without seeing _you_ for a minute. Whenever he’s here when I am, he’s attached to you at the hip.” The social worker laughed quietly to herself and gave Donna another polite smile.

“Yes, he’s very… _attached,_ ” Donna said. 

“How is he doing with your younger son? Are they still getting along?”

“For the most part. Mikey’s had some trouble at school lately so he’s not in the best of moods, but he doesn’t take it out on Frank. And Frank—to be honest with you—he knows how to stay out of your way when you’re not in a good mood.”

“Oh, I can imagine.” The woman returned to her discussion of the paperwork that would need filled out. She gave Donna a pamphlet detailing the steps to take to become a registered foster parent and explained how long it would take for the first of the government checks to come in to help financially support Frank. Donna wouldn’t admit it, but that money was needed desperately. 

Don was starting to become frustrated with the added financial strain of taking on another teenage boy, even with Gerard’s help. It wasn’t just the food and the added money on their water bill, Frank was in desperate need of new clothing and with his birthday coming up, Donna wanted to do something nice. But it was hard to do much of anything when they were broke…

As the social worker was preparing to leave, the front door cracked open and Frank slipped in, followed closely after by Mikey. When he spotted the social worker, Frank’s face blanched and looked to Mikey.

“Dude, it’s fine,” Mikey said, patting Frank’s shoulder. 

“Hello, Frank,” the social worker said.

Frank stared at her, then looked to Donna, then hurried past them to go upstairs to Mikey’s room—the room he pretended was his for the social workers. They still thought Gerard had moved out and that Mikey’s room was in the basement. 

Mikey followed him upstairs, not paying much attention to his mother or the social worker. 

“I think he’s scared of me,” the social worker said to Donna, chuckling a little. It irked Donna that the woman could laugh at Frank’s expense. Of course he was scared of her—she was a woman. And not just any woman: a woman who had complete power over his life. If the social worker said he had to go live somewhere else, he had to go. He got no say in the matter at all. 

“He’s scared of most people,” Donna said. “I don’t even think he trusts his therapist yet.”

“Hopefully that will change and he’ll get used to her. She’s had a lot of success with our other teenagers, but then again…”

“What?” Donna asked after the woman trailed off.

“Most of the teenagers from situations like Frank’s are angry or spiteful. They have drug problems, theft problems, legal troubles even. Frank is a very…special case. He’s sweet and gentle. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him get mad at anyone.”

“It takes a bit of effort, but he’s gotten mad a few times. He just doesn’t act on it. He’ll give you a dirty look, but that’s about it.”

“I’m sure that in time that’ll change. Teenage boys don’t usually stay so well behaved once they get a bit of freedom.”

“Well, Frank’s different,” Donna said, trying not to let any of her bitterness show through. She didn’t want to think about Frank turning into some angry teenager. Both of her sons had grown up to be moody and sullen. It was refreshing to have a gentle presence like Frank around who only needed a hug to lift his spirits. 

( ) ( ) ( )

“You know, Gerard, I’ve been thinking—”

“Well you should be working so I don’t have to do your job as well as my own,” Gerard answered. A heavy storm had rolled in and the intense wind and rain kept most of the afternoon shoppers at home. With no people to stalk and no transactions to monitor, Gerard was made to help put away the massive amount of stock the Spend N Save had piled up in the storeroom. 

“Oh, don’t get your knickers in a knot,” Ellen said, rolling her eyes as she worked out box after box of cereal and granola bars. “Hear me out.”

“What?” Gerard asked, growling as another one of the sharp corners on the cardboard packages slit his finger open. He simply was no built for this.

“It’s about Frankie.”

“Okay, what about _Frankie?”_ Gerard asked.

“So…after his mom beat him, he came _here._ Why did he come _here?”_ Ellen paused her work and looked over at Gerard.

“I thought that too—I forgot to ask him,” Gerard said. It had slipped his mind after everything that had happened and everything that was still going on with Frank. When he found the boy crying under that table in the storeroom, he wasn’t about to ask him why he had to choose the dollar store over the police station or the hospital or Donna’s house. Then, after Frank was in the hospital, Gerard had been too distraught over what had been done to Frank to even question his actions by that point. Frank had been in so much pain. There was no way he’d been thinking rationally.

But why, in even his most _irrational_ of thoughts, would he come to the Spend N Save to hide? Why would he go to the place where he was repeatedly caught (and subsequently punished) for stealing? 

“I just think it’s so weird. I know he probably doesn’t have anywhere safe to go, but why _here?_ His mom beat him in here. This isn’t a _safe_ place for him.”

Gerard was quiet for a moment, pondering over the circumstances—trying to imagine what Frank had to have been thinking. It was a welcome distraction from stocking the shelves. 

Frank had woken up that morning, did ‘the bad thing,’ got beaten and sent to school by his mother… So how had his route to school been detoured to the Spend N Save? Gerard’s house was closer to the school than the Spend N Save. Why hadn’t Frank gone to Donna?

“He probably came here because I’m here,” Gerard said. “He can get to my mom through me, and we know he _loves_ my mom. So that’s probably why.”

“Oh. I guess that makes sense, but… I don’t know. It’s still weird to me.”

“He was in a lot of pain—he probably wasn’t thinking it through. He only knows, like, three people—Mikey, me, and our mom. I don’t know where his house is, but it’s probably not too far from here if he walked. It was probably the closest place he could think of where he knew someone.”

“But what if you weren’t at work? Was he just going to lay back there all day waiting?”

“He was _hurt._ He wasn’t thinking.”

“You still need to bring him in sometime during my shift so I can hug him. He’s so cute.”

“You’re obsessed,” Gerard muttered.

“He’s cute—you have to admit he’s cute.”

“He’s sixteen. You sound like a pedo.”

“Oh come on. I’m not gonna _sleep_ with him! I just want to _hug_ him!” Ellen squeezed the box of cereal in her arms in place of Frank and then set the dented up cardboard onto the shelf. 

“Maybe I should invite you over sometime then. Give Frank someone else to cling to besides my mother.”

“He’s still doing that?” Ellen asked. 

“It’s worse now and no one can figure out why. My parents just got legal custody of him a couple days ago—”

“What about his dad? I thought CPS was looking for his dad?”

“Apparently he’s not very interested in Frank so we get to keep him,” Gerard said, rolling his eyes. It annoyed him that Frank’s father had left him with the mad woman to begin with, but to refuse to change his lifestyle so Frank could come home and live with him…that was just something else. That boy had been through too much abuse and neglect to find out that _neither_ of his parents wanted him. 

“That’s sad,” Ellen mumbled.

“Yeah. Maybe that’s why he’s worse now, I don’t know. It has to hurt like hell.”

“I’m telling you—he doesn’t realize what he’s doing is wrong. If your mom doesn’t tell him to get off and leave her alone, he thinks she’s okay with it and that it’s normal.”

“No sixteen-year-old thinks it’s _normal_ to hug their mom the _whole time_ she’s making dinner. The whole time! He never lets go.”

“Does she tell him to?” Ellen asked matter-of-factly. 

“No,” Gerard muttered.

“Well there you go. He doesn’t know how to act around a mom and he wants her to like him.”

“I get that, but he’s doing the opposite. My mom doesn’t like it—”

“Then she needs to tell him before she goes off on him and breaks his heart.”

“I know. It’s just hard to look him in the face and tell him to go away.”

“What, does he cling to you too?” Ellen asked, looking down the aisle at him and smirking. 

“Not really. I mean…a little. He trusts me with things he doesn’t…doesn’t want to tell other people.” 

“That’s good,” Ellen said, nodding as if trying to encourage him—as though she thought he was really an asshole to both thieves and pathetic teenagers just for the fun of it.

“He… He confides in me a lot. Sometimes I think he wants _me_ to be his therapist.”

“He knows you. It’s easier to tell someone you know details about your life than it is a stranger. Plus, you’re the one who found him. He knows you helped him, he trusts you—you’re his new big brother.”

“Yeah,” Gerard said, looking down at the empty box in his hands. 

“It probably feels really good to Frank, you know? To go from a single parent family where he was the only child to your place. He’s got a mom and a dad and two older brothers.”

Gerard didn’t know if it felt good to Frank or not. His father ignored Frank for the most part and the boy seemed to treat him with the same indifference. Donna was more of a god-figure to Frank than a mother figure—something deserving of constant praise and worship. Mikey was still Frank’s best friend even though that Jamia girl had entered the picture. The only person Gerard didn’t see fitting into the picture was himself. 

He didn’t feel like a brother to Frank. In some ways he felt more like a father figure since he did protect Frank and felt the need to defend him against anything that threatened to harm him. But at the same time he refused to see Frank as a child. Yes, he was sixteen. Yes, he acted six more often than he acted his age. And, yes, he was completely emotionally stunted. All he knew of love was obedience. Love meant doing as he was told. Doing as he was told spared him from anger, because anger was the one emotion Frank couldn’t bear to have directed at him. 

When Gerard had been sixteen he fought with everyone over anything. He wanted to see Frank get to that point—to inject him with passion for something. But the only thing Frank seemed to have interest in was Donna. 

“I gotta get him away from my mom,” Gerard mumbled. 

“What?” Ellen asked, not able to hear him over the sound of the cardboard packaging she was tearing open. 

“Nothing.” Gerard sighed and went back to working, his mind spinning as he tried to fathom what he could possibly do to get Frank to let go. 

( ) ( ) ( )

While Frank was still upstairs with Mikey, Donna sneaked into the kitchen to start prepping for dinner. She kept an ear trained on the stairwell, anticipating the moment Frank would somehow realize she’d moved and come to investigate. Donna didn’t know _why_ Frank felt the need to attach himself to her as she cooked, but he did—and it was irritating. Maybe he thought he needed to show affection in order to get food, the counselor proposed. Maybe he just wanted to show his gratitude. Perhaps he didn’t realize Donna didn’t want him there.

That was the most likely option, but Donna could bring herself to snap at the boy and tell him to go away. She’d tried asking for more space and Frank had looked so hurt by it that she said nothing the following day when he latched himself to her back. If there was enough work to do on the dinner besides stirring or flipping the food over in the skillet, she would ask Frank to help her—which he happily obliged. When he helped with cooking—or cleaning or yard work—he was always praised and praise was something he desperately yearned for. 

Something needed to be done, though. She really couldn’t take much more. 

A sense of dread overcame her when she heard Frank on the stairs. Seconds later, his arms were around her and he had his cheek pressed to her shoulder. 

“You don’t need to come downstairs just because I’m cooking,” Donna said. She’d tried this method many, many times. It never worked. 

“I know.”

“I don’t have much you can help with right now…” Donna said. She felt Frank shrug against her and couldn’t suppress her heavy sigh. “Frank…you need to give me some room.”

Frank lifted his head from her shoulder and she could feel him staring at her although she didn’t turn her focus away from the vegetables she was cutting. 

“I don’t…”

“It’s nothing personal, Frank. You just need to give me a little room. Especially when I’m using knives. I don’t want you to get your hand in the way and get cut on something.” 

“But I won’t…”

“Frank,” Donna said, more firmly. The boy was sixteen—would be seventeen the week after next—he couldn’t keep acting this way. 

He dropped his arms from around her but didn’t step back. It was almost worse than when he was hugging her. At least if he was hugging he had a reason to be so close. Donna turned to look at him, trying to make her face soft and caring so he would realize that she wasn’t angry with him. 

“I’ll go upstairs,” Frank said, his eyes filling with hurt. He backed off then, but hesitated before running away. She didn’t know if he was wanting Donna to go back on her word and tell him it was fine and to go back to clinging, or if he was waiting to be dismissed.

“You know I’m not mad at you,” Donna said softly. 

Frank said nothing, but ducked his head. She didn’t have to be angry at him—in Frank’s mind, any attention that wasn’t affection was rage. 

“Frank, just because I don’t want you hanging on me doesn’t mean I’m upset with you. You can sit here in the kitchen and talk to me, just don’t…invade my space.” The words were harsher than she’d intended, but there was no polite way to tell the boy to stop hugging her that wouldn’t hurt his feelings. She just hoped he wouldn’t get so upset he couldn’t eat. It had been a while since that had happened and she didn’t want the behavior to start up again. 

Frank stayed quiet, and when the front door opened—Gerard coming home from work—Frank turned and hurried downstairs into the basement.

“The hell was that about?” Gerard asked, looking from the basement stairwell to his mother.

“I told him to stop clinging.” She expected Gerard to say something snide about it—insult her for not being kind enough or sympathetic enough, but he merely nodded. “It’s just not right, you know? For a boy his age…”

“Yeah. I know. I’ll talk to him.” 

When Gerard got down into the basement, Frank was sitting in his own bed messing with his book bag as though getting ready to do his homework. 

“Frank?”

“What?”

“You know she’s not mad at you.” 

Frank shrugged and took out his biology text book. 

“We need to talk,” Gerard said as he took off his coat, setting it aside on his desk chair and then stripping off his work polo. He pulled a sweater on over his grey undershirt and then came to sit on the edge of his bed, facing Frank. The boy said nothing to him and Gerard guessed there was no better way to start the conversation than just spitting it out. “Look, my mom loves you—you know that. She loves you a lot, but you can’t… Do you know why she doesn’t want you to be _touching her_ the whole time she’s cooking?”

“Because I get in the way,” Frank mumbled, looking down at his textbook and picking at the corners of the pages. 

“It’s… Frank, you’re almost seventeen. You can’t do that when you’re seventeen. It’s…it’s not appropriate.”

“I don’t understand,” Frank whispered. He started to look distressed and Gerard turned his eyes away to look at the wall instead of the younger boy. 

“What? What don’t you—”

“It’s not appropriate?” Frank asked. When Gerard looked back at him, Frank looked confused and concerned—almost frightened.

“You know, because you’re older? Little kids…they can hug whoever they want and no one thinks anything about it because they’re not… They’re innocent, you know? When you’re older, it starts to look weird. If the social workers see it or…or someone else, they might get the wrong idea.”

“It’s not like I want to do anything _wrong_ with her. She’s—She… It’s not anything like _that,”_ Frank said in protest, looking at Gerard hurt. “You think that’s why she doesn’t want me around? Because she thinks I want—”

“No—Frank, stop. That has nothing to do with it. She doesn’t think you’re coming on to her, Jesus Christ. It’s about being mature, okay? It’s about being an adult and not…not clinging to everybody because you like them. You don’t do that to Jamia do you?”

“No—but… I don’t understand. It never bothered her before,” he added in a whisper, starting to look embarrassed. 

“Well she expected you to grow out of it and stop on your own. It’s not because she doesn’t like you or thinks you’re up to something, it’s just not…not something you should be doing.”

Frank stayed looking like he was about to cry and Gerard sighed heavily. Nothing was going to console the boy and Gerard didn’t know what else to say. 

“It’s just that that’s the kind of thing you do with your girlfriend or your boyfriend, you know? I know you’re lonely and I know you love my mom, but you can’t keep cuddling with her. That’s not…not right for a boy your age.”

“I get it,” Frank whispered, pleading with his eyes for Gerard to just stop talking. 

Gerard stayed quiet and moved to sit at his desk. He wanted to put his headphones on and escape the situation without having to go upstairs and have his mother drill him over what he’d said to Frank and how Frank had taken the news. But putting on his headphones would be cutting Frank out, and the boy might decide later he had something else to say. Gerard wanted to be there if Frank needed anything. 

The room was silent for over twenty minutes and Gerard glanced over his shoulder at Frank who was still sitting on his bed. He wasn’t doing homework. He was just sitting there picking at the corners of the pages. 

“Frank?”

“What?” The boy mumbled.

“I have a question.”

“What?” He asked again, sounding a little more agitated.

“On the day you…you got hurt, why did you come to my store?”

Frank was quiet long enough that Gerard decided he wasn’t ever going to answer. Just as Gerard opened his drawer and pulled out his headphones, Frank spoke up.

“Because I thought you’d be there,” Frank whispered.

“Me?”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you come here instead? Mom’s here all the time—”

“Her house was in the other direction... And I wanted to be with you.”

Gerard froze, the words—the way Frank had said them—struck a chord in him and he felt his stomach give a strange jolt. Slowly, he turned around to look at Frank. The boy was staring at him with sad eyes and once Gerard met his gaze, Frank ducked his head. 

“Why me?” As soon as the question was out, Gerard shook his head. Obviously he’d wanted Gerard—he’d probably feel more comfortable telling another _guy_ about what had happened instead of a woman. A woman had hurt him, a woman couldn’t sympathize with his pain. Gerard—a boy—could understand and empathize. 

But that wasn’t what Frank said. 

“I don’t know. I like you.”

Gerard told himself not to make anything of it. Of course Frank liked him—they were brothers now. He tried not to dwell on the fact that Frank meant he’d liked him _before_ he’d moved in. He was just the only other person Frank knew that he could go to that day, Gerard forced himself to remember. Yes. He was the only one Frank knew, and that’s all there was to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm.. Next chapter should be...a birthday chapter maybe?? That should be exciting!


	22. Chapter 22

_Chapter 22_

It had been a long time since Donna had felt this level of pity for Frank. She had been doing dishes, Frank standing beside her drying them and putting them away, when she casually asked him what he wanted for his birthday. She had a lot of ideas in mind—new clothes since Frank was rapidly putting on weight and outgrowing his, for example—but she wanted to know what Frank was interested in. It didn’t seem right to just buy the teenager a heap of clothes and call it a day. She had no idea what sort of gifts Linda ever gave him, if any at all, and Donnna wanted to set herself apart from the other woman. 

“I don’t want anything,” Frank mumbled. 

“Oh, come on, Frankie. You don’t need to be that way. There has to be something you want.”

“I don’t want anything,” Frank repeated. “You don’t need to—”

“Frank, it’s for your birthday. I want to get you something.”

“You’ve done enough,” he said, speaking so quietly Donna barely heard him over the stream of water from the sink. 

“What?”

“You’ve done enough for me,” Frank said, almost sounding angry. “I don’t want anything.”

“Okay… Maybe there’s some place you’d like to go. We could go to the city for dinner. What do you think? Maybe find a vegan restaurant?”

“Don won’t want to go to a vegan restaurant.”

“So maybe we’ll leave him home—”

“And Mikey won’t want to either.”

“I’m sure they’d have something he’d eat.”

“And Gerard will have to work.”

“So we’ll go on a day he has off.”

“I don’t want to,” Frank said, slamming the plate he’d been drying into the cupboard. 

“Why not?—And don’t say ‘because I don’t want to.’ That isn’t an answer and you know it.” When she became firm with him, the hostility on Frank’s face was quickly replaced with nervousness and he went back to drying the dishes with a gentle hand. 

“It’s not…to celebrate.” He said more, but Donna couldn’t catch what came between the phrases. 

“What?”

“Nothing…”

“Frank.”

“You shouldn’t _celebrate_ that day…”

“We shouldn’t celebrate your birthday,” Donna said, shaking her head. The poor boy felt so demonized he couldn’t even see a purpose in commemorating the day of his birth.

“It’s an evil day…”

“An _evil_ day? What, because it’s on Halloween?”

“Momma says…that’s just proof…” Frank trailed off then, having to know that Donna would stop him. 

“Frank, you’re not a demon, you’re not evil, it’s not your _fault_ that you were born on Halloween.”

“It’s an evil day. Only bad things… Momma said—”

“Frank, stop it.”

But telling him to stop didn’t change anything. He was standing there, drying dishes with tears brimming his eyes, because his mother had belittled him and demonized him so much that he was ashamed to celebrate his own birthday.

Donna sighed and turned off the sink. She dried her hands on the dish towel after snatching it from Frank’s hands and then pulled the boy into a tight embrace. Frank hesitated to hug her in return, but eventually lifted his arms and wrapped them around her waist. 

“If you don’t want to go out on Halloween we won’t,” she said. “But that just means we’re celebrating your birthday on the weekend after. No son of mine is going to live under my roof and not get a birthday present from me.” She pressed a kiss to Frank’s temple and then pushed him back so he would look her in the eye. “Okay?”

Frank stared at her, mumbled something, and then started crying seconds before pulling completely away from her and hurrying downstairs to his bedroom. Donna was almost certain he had told her that he wasn’t actually her son.

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard stepped into his home, relieved when the warm air of the kitchen struck his face. The house smelled like frying vegetables—and _meat_ for once, although Gerard knew there would be tofu or a similar substitute for Frank. 

“What in the world did you do to your face?” His mother asked as soon as she looked up from the oven and spotted him. When he’d been younger she might’ve stopped stirring the food in the skillet and approached him, but now she was getting used to seeing him with cuts and scares and expected him to nurture himself.

“I got to chase a high school kid through the parking lot. I tripped and fell on him.”

“Did he stay down?”

“Yeah. I kind of let him go with a warning after that—you know, after I got all the movies and headphones out of his pockets.”

“How many headphones did he take?” His mother asked, shaking her head and turning all of her attention back to her food.

“About two or three pairs—the five dollar ones, too. Not the cheap ones.”

“Only you would call five dollar headphones anything other than cheap.”

“For the dollar store, five dollars is a lot. Where’s Frank?” It took Gerard a moment to realize that his mother’s shadow wasn’t clinging to her back.

“Oh, I set him off again.”

“You didn’t yell at him did you? Frankie can’t take that,” Gerard said, feeling his stomach tighten. He’d had a bad enough day and now he was terrified he was going to go down to his bedroom and find Frank in spasms on the floor. He didn’t know why it had stuck with him so much, but ever since Frank had threatened to drink bleach Gerard feared he would actually do it. That death would be so _painful,_ and so would the recovery. He didn’t want to see Frank hurting like that.

“I didn’t yell at him. I just asked him what he wanted for his birthday and he got…I don’t know. I don’t if he’s sad or if he’s angry.”

“Why would that make him upset?” Gerard asked. He had a lot of things in mind that he wanted to get Frank for his birthday. It upset him that the boy acted as though the generosity made him mad. 

“His mother said something to him about how he’s a demon for being born on Halloween or some shit like that,” his mother muttered, speaking low so Frank couldn’t overhear if he was sitting in the basement stairwell. “He doesn’t even want to go _out_ on his birthday.”

“That woman won’t let him have anything nice, will she?” Gerard hissed. “I’ll go talk to him.”

When Gerard got downstairs, Frank was laying curled up in his bed on top of his blankets. He turned his eyes toward Gerard when he came in the room but didn’t say anything. When he noticed Gerard’s black eye and scraped up cheek, his eyes widened a little though he still maintained his silence. 

“Mom told me you’re upset,” Gerard said, changing out of his work polo. He could feel Frank’s eyes boring into his back and it made him a little uncomfortable. More and more often lately he’d noticed that Frank didn’t just happen to always be in his room when he changed—he watched him do it. Of course, Gerard never got completely naked in front of him with the lights on. He didn’t know what would happen if he caught Frank staring at him—would Frank act like nothing was amiss, or would he freak the fuck out and start crying because he was sinful? “Are you gonna talk to me or not?”

“What happened to your face?” Frank asked.

“We’re not talking about my face right now, we’re talking about why you’re upset at Mom.”

“I’m not mad at Donna,” Frank whispered. When Gerard looked back down at him, Frank was tracing the bedspread with his eyes—looking like he was pouting more than anything.

“Then what’s wrong?”

“I don’t want anything for my birthday…Mikey will get mad at me.”

“Why do you think Mikey would get mad at you? He’s got his own birthday. It’s not like you’re taking anything away from him.” It did make sense though that Frank would be afraid of his best friend getting jealous of him, and that was something he probably wouldn’t want to say to Donna. Frank wouldn’t want to make it look like he was trying to win her favor over Mikey. He understood that no matter how much Donna claimed to love him she would always love Mikey more—Mikey was her child. Her son. 

Frank may not have ever gotten to experience that unconditional love, but he recognized it when he saw it. 

“Frank, why do you think Mikey would get mad at you?”

“Because…”

“Frank…”

“Because I don’t belong here. You shouldn’t have to…to buy me things just because it’s my birthday. It’s nothing to celebrate. It doesn’t…doesn’t mean anything to you.”

“Why don’t you think it’s something to celebrate? It’s your birthday.”

“Yeah. And what’s so great about that?” A tear made its way down Frank’s cheek and Gerard came to sit beside him on the bed, not wanting to him to feel alone. He needed someone to lean on, and of all the people in the house, Gerard felt that he was probably the only one who understood even slightly what it felt like to be alienated and cut-off. Mikey had friends—he didn’t have a lot, but he had more than a few. Frank had Mikey and had only had Mikey for a very long time. Now he had Jamia, too, but two friends was hardly anything to brag about. 

Gerard hadn’t had friends at all in high school. There were the kids he ate lunch with and the boys he tried to hook up with but that was it. No one to invite over for birthdays or sleepovers, no one to hang out and read comics with or go see movies. Frank knew what that felt like. His mother hadn’t let him have friends at all…

“Did your mom ever…do anything for your birthday?”

“Last year she beat me with the belt,” Frank whispered. “Then we sat and read the bible. Leviticus and…Revelations.”

“Well, this year you’re not reading the fucking bible.”

“You don’t even have a bible in your house…”

“Do you want a bible for your birthday?” Gerard asked, knowing he wasn’t going to buy that boy a bible even if he begged for it. He probably had the whole thing memorized anyway. Drilled into his head with beatings. 

“I want to see Momma.”

“You can’t go see your mother. Part of the terms of her bail is that she can’t have any contact with you,” Gerard said, completely taken aback. How had the boy gone from discussing his mother whipping him on his birthday to asking to see that woman?

“I know. But I miss Momma.”

“Frank, she hurt you.”

“But she’s my mom. I love Momma. I don’t want her to go to jail because of me.”

Gerard sighed heavily and started picking at the bedspread. He had a feeling Frank used his mother to change the subject. Frank knew no one would tell him not to talk about her and everyone was so sickly fascinated with the details of how he’d been living that the mere mention of the woman could spur an entire discussion. Even Don had started trying to get information out of Frank about her—like if she ever dated anyone or why she couldn’t just get her frustrations out by getting laid.

It had been meant as a joke, but the look of complete shock and horror on Frank’s face destroyed the humor in it. Momma wasn’t like that, he said. She was still legally married to his father and that meant she was eternally committed to him. 

“I don’t want to talk about your mom right now. I know you love her, and I know you miss her and you feel guilty, but that’s what you’re seeing your therapist for. I want to know why you don’t want to celebrate your birthday with us.”

“Because it’s an evil day.”

“We can celebrate it on the thirtieth if that makes it better—”

“You celebrate birthdays because you’re happy someone was born. No one was happy I was born. It was the worst day of Momma’s life. I don’t want to celebrate that.” The sound of Frank’s voice as he fought so hard to keep back the tears broke Gerard’s heart. It was hard not to start crying on his behalf.

Nothing Gerard could say would ever change the way Frank was feeling now. He’d spent his whole life knowing that his mother loathed his birth, and that the day other kids got to celebrate with cake and gifts, he spent getting whipped with a belt and forced to read about all the ways in which humanity was full of sin and deserving of a fate worse than death. 

“Well…Frank, I-I get where you’re coming from. Okay? I know things have been hard on you, but we want you to feel at home here. You’re part of our family now and we celebrate birthdays here. It’d break my Ma’s heart if you didn’t let her fuss over you on your birthday.” 

“I don’t act right, though,” Frank said. Gerard almost asked him to clarify, but Frank added on himself. “If I get something really nice I might… I don’t know. When I get excited, I get sick so I don’t show it a lot. If I don’t act like I’m grateful, Donna might get mad at me.”

“She won’t get mad. Even if you forget to say thanks, she’s not going to be mad at you.”

“I just don’t want to disappoint anyone. If no one makes a big deal about anything, I can’t let them down.”

“It’s a birthday, Frank. All you have to do is get out of bed. I promise everything will be fine. We don’t want you to stress about it.”

“But what if—”

“Frank. Please. Just trust me.” Gerard flashed him a smile a put his hand on Frank’s shoulder, rubbing it gently at first and then more firmly, making Frank rock back and forth on his side until the boy finally smiled and squirmed away. “We just want you to be happy. I promise no one’s going to do anything too drastic to celebrate, okay? You’re not getting a car, you’re not getting a dog—maybe some new shoes and, I don’t know, a book or something.”

“Can they be winter boots?—The new shoes?” His eyes lit up at the prospect and it made Gerard’s chest tighten. A sixteen-year-old boy from a relatively financially well-off home should not get excited over the prospect of new shoes. That was something orphans were meant to be excited about. 

His bitch of a mother wouldn’t even buy him new _shoes_ when he needed them.

“Okay, you need to stop.”

“What?” Frank asked.

“Getting excited about shoes!” Gerard said, forcing himself to laugh to hide his annoyance at Frank’s mother. “If you need boots, just tell Mom. She’ll take you out to buy them. No one is _actually_ getting you clothes for your birthday.”

“But you just said—”

“I was saying that so you wouldn’t get freaked out. I didn’t think you’d take it literally, Jesus Christ.”

Frank stared up at him, still curled up in a ball on the bed with his head on the pillow. He still looked like he wanted that damned new pair of boots and was pleading with his eyes for it. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank’s birthday fell on a Wednesday so Donna worked on wrapping up the gifts that everyone had gotten together for him while he and Mikey were off at school. They hadn’t been able to spend much money on his gifts since they’d only gotten one check so far from the government since they’d become his foster family, and what money hadn’t gone on food for him went into his gifts. 

Gerard had insisted on buying some things for Frank too and had actually bought the most expensive gift himself. Donna had offered to help pay, but Gerard seemed offended by the proposition. _He_ wanted to buy it for Frank. He wanted Frank to know it came from _him._

Donna knew she would always be Frank’s favorite person in the house—she won that status simply by being female and treating him with kindness—but sometimes it seemed Gerard was vying for the position. Whenever Frank wanted to bring up a new issue with his therapist, it seemed he tested out his feelings on Gerard. He confided in Gerard about all kinds of things from troubles at school to concerns about his mother’s impending court trial. Sometimes Donna overheard them talking downstairs when they were supposed to have gone to sleep. She tried not to let herself eavesdrop, but it was hard to just walk away.

The social workers often asked her how Frank was getting on and if he’d opened up to her about anything. When all she had to say was that Frank spoke regularly with his counselor, they didn’t seem impressed. They seemed to expect Frank to confide in her, not just the professionals, so it was convenient to have a little something extra to say to them.

It didn’t matter if Gerard had been the one Frank told about not wanting his mother to go on trial. It was enough for him that they were separated. She was happy and he was happy, and to him that was all that was important. He didn’t care about justice; he just wanted to put it all behind him.

Unfortunately for him, his opinion on the matter didn’t change the fact that his mother was going to be tried for her actions and would more likely than not end up in forced psychiatric hold. 

With about an hour left before Frank got home, Donna finished her work and picked up the various boxes and parcels off the floor. She set two down on the kitchen table and then carried the rest upstairs to her room. Working together with Gerard, she decided it would be better to give Frank the gifts slowly throughout the night instead of overwhelming him with a stack of gifts upon his return home. Gerard had told her excitement made Frank sick, and if he started to feel upset to his stomach and couldn’t show his happiness it would just make Frank feel worse. He’d feel guilty instead of happy, and that wasn’t what Donna wanted. 

She wanted to see him smile. It was his birthday. If he wanted to cling to her the entire time he opened his gifts she would allow it just to see him happy. 

While she waited for Frank and Mikey to get home from school, Donna started work on the vegan cake she was baking him for his birthday. She’d found a recipe and all the dairy substitute ingredients she needed to bake it properly. Hopefully it would taste good. If not, Jamia could bring her pug dog over again and let him eat it the next day. 

Hopefully it would come out alright though. Donna wanted things to be as stress-free as possible. 

( ) ( ) ( )

When Frank got home he immediately noticed the two gifts sitting on the kitchen dining room table. His stomach tightened even though the packages were small, but he tried to play it off and smiled at Mikey who almost looked excited as well. Donna was standing at the kitchen sink washing dishes and Frank could smell something baking.

She was making him a cake and that also set Frank on edge. She was doing too much for him. The more she did, the worse he felt. But at least there were only two small gifts. That was reassuring at least and he was able to swallow down the lump in his throat. 

“Which ones are these? Is this the one I picked out?” Mikey asked, going to the gifts before Frank did. 

“Which one?” Donna asked, turning to look at Mikey. “That one’s yours. The other one is from me.”

“Here, open this one,” Mikey said, practically forcing his gift into Frank’s hands. 

“We should wait for—for Gerard and Don to get here.” 

“No, come on. I want you to open it.”

“Mikey, don’t push,” Donna said. “If he wants to open it when Gerard gets home we can wait.”

“Don too,” Frank whispered. Everyone seemed to think he discredited or ignored his new foster father, but in all honesty he just had no idea how to behave around the man. He hadn’t had a father since he was in early elementary school and all his mother ever said about older men was that they would do ‘godless’ things to him, whatever that was supposed to mean.

“Aw, come on. This one’s just from me. Just open it—open it!” Rather than sounding pushy, Mikey just sounded eager and Frank had the feeling whatever the gift was it was probably a game of some sort and he wanted to play it before Gerard and Don got home for dinner.

“Okay,” Frank said, able to smile genuinely as he started peeling back the paper. Donna wasn’t watching him which made him feel a bit better since there was less pressure to smile and act right. 

Frank had guessed right. It was a video game for the console Gerard had down in his room. 

“Do you want to play before dinner?”

“Sure,” Frank said, laughing a little as he turned the game box over in his hand to read the back. It was some sort of haunted house adventure game and the artwork looked admirable rather than cheesy. And if Mikey could enjoy the game too, then it made the gift so much easier to accept. 

“Do you want to wait until Don gets home to open my gift?” Donna asked, turning away from the sink and offering Frank a smile. 

“I… I can open it now if you want,” Frank said, hating that he was starting to get anxious. He knew that wasn’t what Donna wanted, but it was so hard to just act _right_ for once. 

“We can wait if _you_ want,” Donna said. 

Frank glanced at Mikey who obviously couldn’t understand why he wasn’t tearing into the gift already. If he opened the gift now, there would be two less witnesses to his reaction so Frank guessed there was no better time than now. 

He picked up the package off the counter, holding the video game under his arm so he could unwrap the slightly larger gift in his hands.

Once he got a corner unwrapped he realized it was a book, but its surface was too large to be a novel. He could feel Donna smiling at him still and his stomach started tightening again. When he tore the paper from the front of the book he was surprised to see a picture of food—and so was Mikey who scrunched his nose up.

“A recipe book?” He asked.

“Hush, Mikey,” Donna said—her tone disapproving. 

Frank felt that knot in his stomach get tighter when he saw that it wasn’t just a simple cookbook. It was a vegan cook book—no meat, no dairy. 

“I thought you and I could pick out some meals from that, Frank, and we could make dinner together. It’s got desserts in there and everything.”

Frank kept staring at the book in his hands. No one in Donna’s family was lactose intolerant like him and no one else had a problem eating meat. This was a book just for him—letting him dictate for everyone else what the family’s dinner meal would be. Typically Donna made a special plate for him that lacked dairy and had tofu instead of meat, but now she was offering to make entire meals based around him. 

He didn’t know what to say and ended up stammering and looking dumb. Donna laughed at him and the next thing he knew she was at his side hugging him and patting his shoulder. 

“You boys go downstairs and try out that game—make sure it works. I’ll call you up when it’s time for dinner.”

“Okay,” Mikey said, yanking the game playfully out from under Frank’s arm and hurrying for the basement stairs.

Frank was able to mumble a quick thanks to Donna before following his friend down to his room. He let Mikey play the game first, content to sit at his side and watch—well, watch occasionally. For the most part he was flipping through the pages of his new recipe book, looking at all the pictures and thinking about how good some of the dishes might taste. He didn’t even realize a person could do so much with tofu. 

His mother avoided meat because she said the bible condemned it and people were too evolved to rely on lesser animals for sustenance. Animals were filthy, she said, and so were all highly processed foods. Frank had never even had tofu before living with Donna. He lived on fruit and vegetables, organic pasta, and eggs. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Now he had Donna working hard and spending money on him just so he could find more food options. There was even a recipe for a vegan, eggplant lasagna… It sounded really good. But how was Frank supposed to get up the nerve to ask Donna to buy all the ingredients and make it for him…

“What’s that?” Mikey asked, leaning over to look down at the book as well. “Wow—that actually looks _good.”_

“It has eggplant in it,” Frank said.

“I’ve never had that,” Mikey said, sounding a little less interested.

“It’s really good. The seeds are in a star pattern inside. It’s really cool.”

“I’d try it,” Mikey said. “What else is in there?” He took the book from Frank and passed the controller to him instead. Frank started playing the game, but kept looking over at Mikey to see what page and recipe he was on. 

( ) ( ) ( )

After asking his mother how Frank had handled his first two gifts, Gerard hurried down into his basement bedroom where Frank and Mikey were both sat playing Frank’s new video game. The vegan cookbook was on the floor beside Frank, opened to a page with some sort of pasta dish on it. 

“Hey, Frank.”

“Oh—Hi,” Frank said, turning away from the screen only long enough to give Gerard a small smile. 

“Happy birthday,” Gerard said as he started changing out of his work polo. 

“Thanks,” Frank said—still sounding genuine even though he didn’t look away from the screen. 

“You know, I got a gift for you,” Gerard said, fishing around in his desk and pulling out a small stack of packages. 

“Really?” Frank paused the game despite Mikey’s disheartened sigh and turned to look at Gerard. His face blanched when he saw Gerard pulling more than one gift out of the drawer but Gerard refused to acknowledge it. Once he saw what the gifts actually were, Frank would understand. “That’s… Why are there so many?”

“Because it’s your birthday and I wanted to get you something useful. Do you want them or not?” Gerard set the gifts down in front of Frank on the floor and then passed a smirk to Mikey who knew exactly what Frank had gotten. Mikey had helped in picking it out.

“Th-there’s so many,” Frank said, looking up at Gerard and smiling nervously. 

“Open them—here, this one first.” Gerard sat down on the floor beside Frank and worked out the largest gift on the bottom of the stack. 

When Frank had it in his hands, Gerard noticed that he was shaking. The kid wasn’t lying when he said excitement made him feel sick. He looked like he might throw up. Gerard was beginning to feel that giving gifts to Frank hurt him more than pleased him. 

Suddenly, Gerard found himself wanting to take the gift away from him just as Frank started peeling back the paper. When the boy’s eyes lit upon the label on the box under the paper, he nearly dropped the box from his hands. 

“Th-this—I can’t… I-I can’t—it’s too much.”

“Just open it,” Mikey said, nudging Frank’s shoulder over and over until the boy went back to removing the paper from his gift—a new smartphone. 

“It’s nothing fancy. It’s a prepaid so it didn’t cost too much. I set it up for you last night—that’s why the box is opened.” Even though he tried to downplay the gift, it had still been expensive—the phone itself cost over two-hundred dollars. Don had paid for three months of service for it, close to two-hundred dollars also. “It’s okay—you need a cellphone.”

“Yeah, but—but all of this stuff…” Frank looked down at the three remaining boxes and starting chewing on his lip.

“It’s fine, Frank. I wanted to get you something you could use. Open the others.”

Frank’s hands were still shaking as he unwrapped the rest of his presents—a customized phone case with a less-than-ominous cartoon ghost on the back, a paperback copy of _The Catcher in the Rye,_ and a DVD of _The Nightmare Before Christmas._

He kept looking from the gifts to Gerard with big eyes. His eyes seemed to show happiness that he couldn’t express in words, and whenever he tried to speak, his voice would crack and he’d stop trying after a few syllables. 

“I picked out the phone,” Mikey said. “It’s kind of like mine but, you know, smaller.” Mikey pulled his cellphone out of his pocket to prove his point and then set to putting Frank’s case on his new phone. 

“You ever seen this movie?” Gerard asked, holding up the DVD. Frank shook his head and took it back from Gerard, looking over the box anxiously. “It’s pretty good. I think you’ll like it. If not—then I got it back in my collection. I had it on VHS but the tape player ate it.”

He filled Frank in on _Nightmare_ and then _The Catcher in the Rye_ until their mother called them upstairs for dinner. Thankfully for Frank, the meal was simple and not at all fancy so Frank had no reason to feel guilty or stressed. He seemed to sense that the shower of gifts was not yet over—Don had come home from work and he was the only one left who hadn’t given him anything and the smell of cake was still on the air even though the dessert was nowhere in sight. 

Frank could only eat half a plate, but Donna smiled at him regardless while talking about the latest gossip she’d picked up from the ladies at the hair salon earlier in the day. Gerard felt bad because just as Frank began to relax, Don got up from the table and returned with a final package. 

“Don’t worry,” Don said as he sat back down and pushed the package across the table to Frank. “This one didn’t cost any money.”

Frank stared at it for the longest time before finally resigning himself to the task of opening it, his fingers trembling again despite how calm he had formerly been. Gerard was intrigued because of all the gifts Frank was getting, he had no idea what his dad had gotten him. 

When the paper was off, Frank stared at the booklet in his hand completely bewildered. It wasn’t until he turned it over in his hand that Gerard saw the cover. It was a driver’s guide—the sort of book they keep at the BMV for new drivers to study before getting their learner’s permit. It took Frank a couple of minutes to understand, but as soon as the realization sunk in that Don was essentially offering to _teach him how to drive,_ Frank dropped the book and started crying. 

Donna laughed softly before cooing and coming over to put a hand on his shoulder. 

“It’s okay,” she said, leaning down to press a kiss onto Frank’s cheek. He just covered his face with his hands and cried harder, trying to force out that he was sorry, he was happy—he was really just happy and he was sorry that he was crying. “So do you like your gifts?” She asked, shooing Gerard out of his seat so she could take it and sit at Frank’s side. 

Frank nodded and turned to hug her, burying his face in her shoulder as he struggled to calm himself down. Donna kept rubbing his back and looked over at her husband who was shaking his head—not at all understanding Frank’s reaction but knowing better than to question it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't think he's sad and devastated--he's actually really happy!


	23. Chapter 23

_Chapter 23_

After dinner, Donna served the vegan cake she had prepared following a recipe from Frank’s book that she had copied down before wrapping it. Don had hesitated to try a piece, but once he’d taken a bite he swore up and down that it tasted better than regular cake.

Once Frank had calmed down enough to blow out the candles and eat his cake, he and Mikey sat in the living room doing homework while the others watched TV. Well, while Don and Donna watched TV. Gerard was watching Frank who kept toggling between his biology textbook and his new phone. He was slowly trying to personalize it while also trying to do his homework and it was amusing to watch him try to play with his phone without getting caught—as if he were in study hall at school instead of in his own living room. 

Just to mess with him, Gerard started sending him texts. He hadn’t put his own number in Frank’s phone so until Frank caught him sending the texts from across the room, he’d had no idea who was actually sending him the messages. It had been such a disappointment when Frank had caught him, but the boy kept answering whatever text Gerard sent. 

“Already texting Jamia?” Donna asked after she appeared to grow tired of the chirping of Frank’s phone. Gerard had his on silent, seldom taking his eyes off of Frank or the phone long enough to miss an incoming text. 

“No,” Frank said, staring at the phone as he texted Gerard a reply. 

They were discussing whether or not it was okay to watch _Nightmare_ after Donna’s imposed curfew at eleven o’clock. Frank was supposed to be showered and in bed by eleven, not up watching movies. 

_It’s your birthday. Live a little ;)_ Gerard texted him. 

Frank was blushing—actually blushing—as he texted Gerard back a simple _OK._

Gerard was confused by the reaction, but there was no mistaking the bright red that covered Frank’s cheeks—even extending down his neck—when he read the text. 

Was the winky face too much? But if he’d gotten the wrong idea and somehow thought Gerard was being _flirtatious,_ why then did he not grimace or look concerned rather than blushing and smiling—and fucking _giggling._

No, Gerard thought. No, no. He was getting it wrong. Frank wasn’t like other kids. Frank was probably becoming giddy at the prospect of breaking the rules when he _knew_ he wouldn’t be punished for it. He was having a good night and a little rebellion was just making it better. _That’s_ what that grin was about. Who was Gerard to try and pigeonhole how Frank could respond to things? Earlier he’d started sobbing until he nearly puked because he was just _that happy._ If he wanted to giggle now and blush like a schoolgirl, then more power to him. Gerard preferred that over the crying.

So as Frank was taking his shower, Gerard got everything ready in his room. He put in the DVD and resisted the urge to start it without Frank—even if he really, really, _really_ just wanted to listen to “This is Halloween”—because he didn’t want to spoil a single note for the boy. When Frank finally got back to the room, dressed in another one of Gerard’s t-shirts as a nightshirt even though he had his own pajamas, Gerard started up his DVD player again. 

“Oh—yeah, before I forget,” Gerard said, going over to his desk. He had hung his coat on the back of his desk chair after work, and had placed a birthday card in his coat pocket from Ray and Ellen. “Ray, you know the manager, and Ellen—”

“Ellen who has a crush on me?” Frank asked, running his fingers through his dripping wet hair. There was no shortage of towels in their house, but the boy seemed to love going to bed with his hair still soaked from his shower. 

“Yes, Ellen who has a crush on you,” Gerard said. “Our cashier. They got this card for you for your birthday.” He went to hand it to Frank and felt disheartened when the boy started to look anxious again. “It’s really nothing major so don’t get your hopes up.”

“Okay,” Frank whispered, taking the card and opening the envelope. It was just a simple card—plain, blue, generic with a cartoon birthday cake on the front. Inside it read Happy Birthday and was signed by Ray and Ellen. (Though Ellen had added exclamation marks and a big smiley face and a heart with a personal note saying “hope your birthday is a good one!”) “What’s this?” Frank asked, picking up the gift card to the Spend N Save that had been tucked inside. 

“It’s a gift card—it’s for fifteen dollars. Nothing major. It was Ellen’s idea. She really wants you to come in.”

“Oh…” Frank stared at the card for a long time and then hurried over to his dresser and slipped into his jeans drawer. After getting a cellphone and cookbook and a promise of driving lessons, a fifteen dollar card hardly made him panic. He did smile, though, as he pushed his drawer closed. He was finally able to accept a gift without being overwrought with guilt or so excited he couldn’t help but cry.

Gerard waited until Frank was sat on his bed before pressing play and switching of the light. He kept the volume low, but not too low, so his mom wouldn’t overhear and tell him Frank needed to go to bed because he had school in the morning.

“You should like this movie,” Gerard said, daring to speak over the opening narration.

“It looks scary,” Frank whispered, his former good cheer seeming to leave him as the Halloween tree opened up and the screen turned dark. 

“It’s not scary—it’s good. You’ll like it.”

“Is it a musical?” Frank asked, pretty much stating the obvious since the song had started.

“Yeah, but—”

“This is a kid’s movie.”

“Hush. You’ll like it,” Gerard said.

“Gerard, this looks scary. I don’t want to watch it before bed.”

“I _promise_ it’s not scary.”

Frank whimpered a little when the monster under the bed came on the screen to sing its part and Gerard sighed. Maybe Frank had turned seventeen, but he was still mentally no more than seven, was he?

“If you’re that scared you can come sit over here,” Gerard said, rolling his eyes. He hadn’t expected the boy to comply—or act so quickly. No sooner had he finished speaking did Frank pop up next to him in his bed. The boy actually sat shoulder-to-shoulder with him, his legs curled under him with his hands in his lap. 

“Okay—he’s not scary anymore,” Frank said as Jack raised out of the fountain as the song came to its end. 

“See. I told you. So you don’t have to sit over here.”

But Frank didn’t move. He stayed pressed up against Gerard’s shoulder.

“Aw… He’s lonely,” Frank said. Every few minutes he had some form of commentary or another about the film. If Gerard hadn’t seen the movie so many times it would’ve irritated him. It was actually fun to hear the response of someone seeing it for the first time—it was like reliving the joy of the first time he’d ever seen it. “He’s got a ghost dog, Gerard…I want a ghost dog.”

“You just want a dog in general,” Gerard mumbled. Jamia had come over once with her pug and Frank hadn’t let the dog alone from the moment it walked into the door. He paid more attention to the dog than he did his friend—which was really saying something since Frank had only gotten over his crush on her a few days before that particular visit. 

“I do. Do you think Donna would get me one if I asked for it for Christmas?”

“No. Don’t even try.” 

Yes, Gerard thought. Yes she absolutely would if Frank asked her enough times and maybe whimpered. Gerard wasn’t going to tell him that though. 

Frank’s commentary went on and on—pointing out all the things he liked he liked in the story, in the songs, in the art… Slowly he and Gerard both started sinking down further and further in the bed until Gerard had burrowed under the covers. It took him a moment to realize Frank wasn’t just lying beside him, but curled beside him. And almost as soon as he noticed the boy was practically cuddling against him, it was too late to ask him to move—Frank was asleep. 

The movie lost some of its charm without Frank’s commentary, and Gerard reached for the remote and turned off the television. Once the room went completely dark, Frank murmured in his sleep and squirmed against Gerard’s side—seeking heat.

He’d better be asleep, Gerard thought as Frank pressed closer, his arm stretching out over Gerard’s chest. He’d better fucking be asleep and not trying something… 

When Gerard started to feel drool seeping down his arm from Frank’s slightly parted lips, he realized that unless Frank was one damned good actor, Frank was completely passed out. Gerard thought about waking him, but decided the boy had had enough excitement. When he woke up he’d probably be embarrassed or upset, or afraid Gerard would be mad at him for falling asleep. 

Gerard didn’t want to have to deal with Frank’s insecurities and it wasn’t _that_ bad to have a warm body next to him. It didn’t mean anything. He used to share a bed with Mikey when they’d been kids and one of them had a nightmare. This was no different. 

Except Mikey didn’t fucking _drool like some kind of an animal!_

Gerard groaned and tried to ignore the moisture sliding down his forearm. Frank started squirming around again and Gerard took a risk and scooted closer, letting Frank’s head come to rest in the bend of his shoulder, his arm around Frank’s shoulders. 

The change in angle got Frank to stop drooling at least, but Gerard’s mind suddenly couldn’t let go of the fact that this was not appropriate. This was how he and his boyfriends would sleep at night—not how he and his brother should…

But it was too late now. Gerard was just going to have to wait for an opportunity to squirm away before Frank woke up and thought he was being taken advantage of—or, god forbid, he started preaching and hyperventilating about sin. 

Except his plan didn’t exactly work. Not long after Frank had snuggled fully into Gerard’s chest, Gerard had fallen asleep too. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank had never felt so warm in his entire life—both inside and out. He’d never had a day so perfect, and even in his sleep he dreamed about his new family and their kindness. He didn’t really have a coherent dream, but he kept seeing flashes of his gifts in his mind like a collage. He saw recipes, then imagined going to the store to shop with Donna for the ingredients, then coming home and preparing everything with her. And even if he couldn’t cling to her as she cooked, she would still let him be close.

Before Donna—before _Gerard,_ really—no one had let him close before. (At least not since his childhood.) Sometimes his mother would hug him, but it always came at a price. Usually she said something mean or had just finished hurting him before offering him the small bit of comfort he needed to keep his mouth shut when the school started asking questions.

But there wasn’t any pain here. There was love. Frank had so much love around him. Even Don wanted to spend time with him—Don offered to teach him to drive. Don was going to teach him to drive!

As he slept, Frank’s mind kept tossing out images of it. A car—he was going to learn to drive a car! His mother said he wasn’t worth the effort but Don was going to teach him anyway! 

Frank was half asleep by the time his mind started focusing on Gerard’s gifts. That was when Frank started feeling the warmth. He moved closer and closer to it, wrapping his arms around it and imagining that it was the sun—a radiating, bright force in the darkness behind his eyes. He snuggled against it more and more until he felt something shift under his neck. Moments later there was low groaning sound and Frank’s eyes snapped open—the image of a bright, glowing sun vanishing and being replaced with the dim light of his basement bedroom. He could faintly discern the outline of the bed, but something seemed wrong… Gerard’s desk was closer to him than it should be. 

The room felt smaller…

Whatever was underneath Frank’s head and neck shifted again and Frank sat up quickly. He wasn’t in his bed—he was in _Gerard’s_ bed. Sleeping next to _Gerard._

Frank stared down at the other man as he rolled over, taking away the arm that Frank had been lying on the entire night. 

His heart sank a little as he looked around the room, realizing he didn’t get to see the end of the movie before falling asleep. The last thing he remembered was Jack’s sleigh getting shot out of the sky. He really wanted to know how it ended… 

Hopefully Gerard wasn’t mad that he hadn’t made it all the way through. It wasn’t because the movie wasn’t interesting to him—he’d just been exhausted after so much excitement that day… But if Gerard was mad, why would he let Frank stay asleep in his bed?

Or had Frank latched onto him and made it impossible for Gerard to get up? 

Frank swallowed hard and stared down at Gerard, trying to decide if it was safe to slip out of Gerard’s bed and go back to his own. Gerard was sleeping and Frank didn’t want to shift around the mattress and wake him up.

After nearly ten minutes, Frank slowly laid back down, staring at Gerard’s turned back. He was starting to feel cold despite the blankets he had folded over himself. He missed the warmth he’d had before and the longer he lie there, watching Gerard’s shoulder rise and fall with his breaths, the more he began to feel that maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing if he scooted a bit closer. And closer still.

Closer until he had his forehead pressed against Gerard’s back. This was wrong…

He knew better. It wasn’t appropriate to sleep next to Gerard like this. He was seventeen now, not a little kid. What he was feeling was wrong.

He’d known that the moment the bad thing had started happening when Gerard sent him that text message with the winking face the night before. He knew the text didn’t mean what his brain _wanted_ it to, but his body started reacting anyway. He liked Gerard. He couldn’t deny it. He’d liked Gerard from the moment he’d taken him into the back office and fed him fruit cups and told him his mother shouldn’t hurt him the way she did.

Everything about Gerard called to him—his long hair, his deep eyes, the shape of his eyebrows even… The worst thing about it all too was that it wasn’t even strictly physical anymore. Gerard was kind, he was funny, he was considerate and gentle. Frank felt safe whenever he was with Gerard—a different sort of a safety than what he felt when he was close to Donna. 

Frank sighed and folded himself against Gerard’s body, closing his eyes tightly in anticipation of the moment Gerard would wake up and strike at him—push him away and call him a freak. One wrong move and Frank knew that every good thing he had earned from this family would be taken from him. 

But he just couldn’t _help_ it. He wanted to be close to Gerard—as close as he could get. Gerard obvious didn’t care if he let Frank sleep in his bed, right? If it _actually_ bothered him, wouldn’t he have just pushed Frank out or slept in Frank’s bed for the night instead? 

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard’s eyes snapped open as soon as he felt something winding around his waist, and when he looked down he realized it was arms—Frank’s arms. The boy was _spooning_ him and obviously not asleep based on the sounds of his uneven breaths. He almost sounded like he was crying or about to have a panic attack…

Then Gerard felt _it_ pressing into the back of his thigh. 

No. Fucking. Way.

One twitch, Gerard thought to himself, one twitch of Frank’s hips and he was getting the fuck out from under the blankets and putting as much space between himself and the boy as possible. He was not going to lie there and let the boy _hump_ him thinking he was asleep. 

Gerard squirmed his hips away from Frank’s, surprised when the boy didn’t try to close the distance yet again. Slowly, Gerard rolled over onto his back and turned his head to look over at Frank. The boy’s eyes were closed despite his labored breaths and there were tears on his cheeks. 

“Frank?” Gerard said, his voice cracking a little with sleep. 

The boy twitched, but gave no other response—asleep. 

Gerard found himself breathing a sigh of relief and relaxed against the mattress. For a minute there…

Gerard shook his head and wiped at his face with his hands, paying special attention to his eyes. 

For a minute there he’d thought the boy had been dry humping him in his sleep and crying about it. Just the idea of it made Gerard’s stomach tighten. That poor kid had enough problems. He didn’t need weird, semi-incestuous thoughts making it worse. Especially not after yesterday. Gerard had never seen anyone that happy in his entire life. Frank hit every type of happiness on the spectrum—speechlessness, giddiness, elation, and even tears. Yesterday had probably been the best day of Frank’s entire life. 

Gerard wanted to hold onto that image of him, not the one he had in his mind now—of Frank crying in his sleep while pressing his semi into his older foster brother’s thigh. 

He wondered, though, why Frank was crying. If it was a bad dream, he probably wouldn’t be aroused… Then again, Gerard had had a nightmare before that a horribly ancient, ugly vampire had pierced his throat with its teeth and had drained him of all his blood; when he woke up from that he had the boner from hell… Fear did strange things to the body—wait.

Why was Gerard still thinking about this? 

He shook his head as if that would actually rid him of the thought and sat up. The movement caused Frank to stir and when his eyes opened they were red-rimmed and bloodshot.

“You okay?” Gerard asked. 

Frank looked up at him fearfully and said nothing.

“Frank?”

“I’m sorry,” Franks whispered.

“Why?” Gerard asked, pretending to be much groggier than he actually felt—not wanting Frank to have even the slightest idea that he was aware of “the bad thing” Frank had going on.

“I… I didn’t mean to fall asleep in your bed,” Frank said.

“It’s fine,” Gerard said, shrugging and shifting around until he was propped up against the headboard. 

“I really didn’t mean to sleep in your bed.”

“It’s fine, Frank. If it bothered me, I would’ve woken you up.”

“Was I laying on you?” Frank asked, not moving to sit up but rather pulling the blankets tighter around his body. “You…you slept here too even though…even though my bed’s empty.”

“Oh—yeah, you were on my arm. It’s fine. You drool a lot in your sleep, by the way.”

“No I don’t,” Frank said, his cheeks starting to turn a darker shade of red.

“Yeah, you fuckin’ do,” Gerard said, making sure his voice sounded a bit more playful than aggressive. It was hard since he was still tired, but it seemed to have worked since Frank blushed harder. 

“No I—”

“You slobbered all over my arm.”

“So why didn’t you wake me up?” Frank asked, squeezing his eyes shut from the embarrassment before rubbing at his face and tossing the blankets off of himself. 

“I don’t know,” Gerard said, watching as Frank crossed the small space between their beds and wrapped up with his own sheets. “It was kind of—I don’t know. Whatever. It was cute and you were tired—It was your birthday. I just wanted you to be happy and you looked happy.”

Frank let out a low moan—utterly humiliated—and buried his face in his pillow. Gerard was pretty sure he’d mumbled “I don’t drool” one last time, but the words were badly muffled by the pillow. 

Not long after that, Donna called down the stairs to tell Frank to get up—and moments later Gerard’s cellphone alarm chirped. Frank didn’t move from his face-down position on his bed, even after Gerard had started to change into his day clothes. He could probably use a shower before he went to work, but he felt he would rather wait until the afternoon. At least then he wouldn’t have Mikey pounding on the door telling him to hurry up. 

When Gerard started up the stairs to go get breakfast, Frank finally rolled over and called out to him.

“What?” Gerard asked, pausing half way up the stairs.

“After school, will you watch the rest of the movie with me?” Frank asked. 

“Yeah. Of course.” He flashed Frank a smile and then hurried up the rest of the stairs. 

“How’s Frank doing?” His mother asked as soon as he stepped into the kitchen.

“Fine. Tired.”

“Tired? I guess he got a little too much excitement yesterday then,” she said as she started setting out ingredients for breakfast on the counter. 

“No,” Gerard drawled sarcastically. “What gives you that idea? The fact that he was shaking all day or that he kept bursting into tears.”

“He got better by last night. He was even using his phone without looking like he was about to throw up.”

“Yeah. Oh—I forgot to tell you, Ray at work—you know, the manager—he gave Frank a gift card to the Spend N Save so if you want to take him over there sometime to go shopping, he has money.”

“Hm. Maybe this weekend we’ll go. I want to pick out some recipes with him from his new book tonight and tomorrow and we’ll go into town for the ingredients. I looked up the address to some vegan market and a couple health food stores.”

“That sounds like fun,” Gerard said, starting to fix himself a pot of coffee 

“Do you want to come? It’ll probably help keep him clam if you’re there.”

“I work Saturday morning.”

“So we’ll go in the afternoon.”

“Alright,” Gerard mumbled. As a rule, Frank didn’t typically go on shopping trips. He always panicked when he saw money being spent on him. If he went alone with Donna he would probably have a complete meltdown since there was no one else to reassure him that she wasn’t mad every five seconds. 

“Next month when his check comes in I want you to take him clothes shopping.”

“What, alone?” Gerard asked, almost spilling an entire cup of coffee grounds on the counter. “No.”

“Why not? You’re a boy—you can help him pick out things.”

“If you’re not there, all I’m gonna hear is ‘but what if Donna doesn’t like it? What if she gets mad at me?’”

“Oh, stop. He’s not that bad.”

“Mom,” Gerard said, making sure his voice was low. “He doesn’t do anything without worrying about what you’re going to say.”

“Well, as long as you don’t buy him jeans with holes or shirts with naked women on them, I’ll approve of anything. And shop clearance. He needs new _clothes,_ not a new outfit.”

“Fine,” Gerard mumbled. Just as his coffee was finished brewing, Frank arrived upstairs. He was trying to smooth his hair that he seemed to be too lazy to brush or comb. He gave Donna a hug before hurrying upstairs to use the bathroom before Mikey got in the shower. 

“He’s such a sweet boy,” Donna said to herself as she busied herself with breakfast. 

“Yeah,” Gerard said, thinking about all the different times he’d seen Frank blush since the night before. “He’s a good kid…”


	24. Chapter 24

_Chapter 24_

Frank was seated on the floor in Jamia’s apartment, playing tug of war with her pug. She was standing by the window which she’d opened a crack so she could smoke. It was cold out and though there was a no-smoking rule in her apartment she didn’t want to stand outside in the frigid temperatures just to light up.

“You’ve been kind of quiet lately, Frankie,” Jamia said.

“Yeah…”

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing… I mean, nothing is really wrong I just… I don’t know.”

“Come on, Frankie,” Jamia said, tapping the ash off her cigarette and onto the street below. “Is it that punk Kyle again? I saw him making gestures at you in the hall.”

“It’s not him…”

“Okay, you need to stop sounding like a kid with a broken toy and tell me what’s going on. I’m your friend!”

“It’s a problem at home,” Frank whispered, letting the pug dog win at tug of war. The dog shook the toy in its mouth and scampered off to the far corner of the room where it continued to gnaw on the braided rope. 

“Oh… Is it your mom?”

“No. Not Momma.”

“Okay. Is it Mikey? I thought you two were getting along better.”

“No.”

“So it’s not your mom and it’s not Mikey…is it Donna?”

“No.”

“I think it’s time I told you I hate guessing games. This is getting really annoying. What?”

Frank sighed heavily and stared at the floor. He had no one in the world he could trust with his secret—not even his therapist—but it was becoming so heavy in his chest that he just couldn’t keep it in anymore.

“I like Gerard,” Frank said, the words feeling like a fist that closed around his heart. 

“Your…your foster brother?”

“Yeah.”

“Aw—he’s gay, right? Or was that…wait, no—yeah. You told me he was gay. For a minute I got them mixed up. Mikey likes that girl in his English class.”

Frank just hummed. 

“Did something happen between you guys?” Jamia grinned at him like she wanted to add more but was holding it back. 

“He let me sleep in his bed,” he added.

“Oh! Well that’s… Yeah, I don’t know what to make of that to be honest,” Jamia said, laughing and stubbing out her cigarette. She looked around at the street and then dropped the smoke onto the street below. After that she wiped at the smear of ash on the brick windowsill so her parents wouldn’t see. 

“I don’t want him to hate me.”

“Why would he hate you for having a crush on him?” Jamia asked as she closed the window and came to sit down beside Frank on the floor.

“I don’t know. Because he’s my older brother now.”

“Well he’s not _really_ your brother.”

“We share a room though. If he finds out I like him and he doesn’t—I mean, I know he doesn’t feel the same—so if he finds out, it’ll make things awkward between us and I don’t want that. I just want… I don’t know.”

“You need to know what you want. Life’s short, Frankie. If you want something, go for it.”

“Yeah, that’s fine if you want to go, like, skydiving or something. Not if you have a crush on your older brother.”

“First off, he’s not your older brother—he’s this hot guy you live with whose parents just _happen_ to be your legal guardians right now. I like Chelsea Marx—if something happened to my parents and Chelsea’s mom took me in, I wouldn’t _stop_ liking her because she’s my foster sister.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t feel this way for Gerard before I moved in. Well, I did, but not… Not like…”

“It’s okay, Frank. I get it. You don’t need to look so embarrassed. You saw him around before, right? Because he’s Mikey’s older brother?”

“Sure,” Frank said, not bothering to mention the first time he ever met Gerard was when the man caught him stealing from the Spend N Save. He was getting closer to Jamia, but there were a lot of things he kept from her. He still hadn’t told her the truth about his mother. She seemed to have come to the conclusion that she had either been in an accident and was in the hospital or that she had a drug problem and had been put in rehab. 

“Oh—come on!” Jamia said. Instead of behaving with the anger and frustration her tone suggested, she leaned over and threw her arms around him—squeezing him tight. “You can tell me, Frankie. We’ll get through this.”

“Yes, I saw him around before.”

“Okay—so you saw him and thought he was cute, and now you know him and he’s got personality too. It’s no biggie. That’s how it’s _supposed_ to work. First, you want in their pants. Then, you want in their hearts.”

“I don’t want _that_ with him!” Frank exclaimed, shaking his head. He would never get the images out of his head of the dream he’d had that night—the dream of Gerard pleasuring him in the Spend N Save office—mixed in with the memory of the awful pain his mother had inflicted on him seconds after his fantasy had ended. It was always there, constantly reminding him of how _shameful_ it was for him to feel the way he did for Gerard.

It didn’t matter if he was starting to appreciate all the small things about Gerard—his smile, his small teeth, his dependency on coffee even—there was still lust underneath that affection. And lust was sinful. What he felt was wrong. 

“You don’t want _that_ with him?” Jamia asked, her eyebrows shooting up with surprise. “I thought you said you liked him. Now I’m confused.”

“I like him, but that’s… It’s _wrong._ ”

“No it’s not.”

“Yes, it is… I don’t want to do that—ever. Never.”

“You did it with that Kyle creep.”

“That was _before,_ ” Frank said, shaking his head. He didn’t want to have this conversation, but he knew he couldn’t work it out on his own. Jamia was the only person who never judged him and actually gave him advice instead of just nodding at him and waiting for him to come to solutions on his own.

“Before what?”

“Nothing—I… I really don’t want to talk about that.”

“Did something happen?” Jamia asked. When Frank met her eyes, he saw a strange sense of knowing inside them as if she saw right through him and could see all of his memories. “Something happened,” she repeated, nodding. “Okay. Have you…have you told anybody?”

“About Gerard?”

“No—about what happened,” Jamia said. “I’m not going to pry—that’s really personal stuff, you know, if what I’m thinking is what happened.” 

Frank’s mind started whirring backwards, retracing the things he’d said in an attempt to understand why Jamia was looking at him with so much pity. 

“I… Nothing happened—”

“Frank, you just told me that you did those things with Kyle _before_ the thing happened. If you could do those things with someone _before_ and now you don’t want to, it makes me nervous for you—because I think somebody hurt you. So did you tell anyone?”

“Oh,” Frank said unable to meet Jamia’s eyes. She was looking at him with compassion—empathy she wouldn’t be giving him if she’d known what he’d been doing before the bad thing happened. 

“Did you—”

“Yeah, I told,” Frank said quickly. “That’s…why I live with Donna now. But I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay,” Jamia said, chewing her lip anxiously as she thought of something to say. “We won’t talk about it—let’s…let’s go back. You…you like Gerard, but not in _that_ way?”

“I don’t know,” Frank mumbled. He no longer felt the courage to keep the discussion going and Jamia seemed to sense that because she let the silence continue for close to ten minutes. 

“We don’t have to talk about it anymore if you don’t want. I kind of… Sorry, I just got really scared when you said that. I thought someone might still be hurting you. I didn’t mean to take over.”

“It’s fine,” Frank whispered, looking down at his hands. “It’s…it’s nice that you care enough to ask.”

“Right… I still feel bad.”

“Don’t feel bad.”

“Can I just say this?”

“What?”

“If Gerard let you sleep in his bed, he likes you too. At least in some way. So you’ve got that going for you. And if it’s more of a platonic thing and not a physical thing, that’s fine. Just don’t act on impulse, okay? In either direction. Like, don’t get it in your head that he hates you because he says he doesn’t want you to sleep in his bed and then stop talking to him. He could like you back and feel just as weird about it as you do because he’s your ‘older brother.’”

“And don’t think he loves me just because he let me sleep in his bed,” Frank mumbled.

“Right,” Jamia whispered. 

There was more Frank wanted to say, but he just didn’t have the energy. Not today. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard knew before he even looked up from the document in his hand who had walked in his store, just by the sounds Ellen started making at the cash register. 

“Oh, my god! Oh, my god—yay!” 

Donna had finally brought Frank out to spend his dollar store gift card. 

By the time Gerard looked up, his mother was already approaching him, smirking at him wickedly as she prepared to say something that would no doubt humiliate him. What would it be this time, he wondered, baby talk or scolding him for keeping a messy bedroom?

“Haven’t I taught you anything, Gerard? You should always tuck in your shirt if it has a collar—now come here.” His mother made a show of trying to tuck in his shirt—not actually trying to accomplish anything more than embarrass him.

Meanwhile, Frank stood awkwardly by the counter waiting for Donna to come back to him—unwilling to shop on his own. He watched Gerard, too, with fear in his eyes. It made Gerard wary because the only thing Frank had to be afraid of was getting caught if he tried to steal something. If he had money, there would be no reason for him to steal…except out of habit.

“You should go—go pay attention to Frank,” Gerard said, gently pushing his mother away from him and promptly untucking his shirt as soon as she was gone. 

She went to Frank’s side and put a hand on his shoulder, asking him what he wanted to look at first. Frank shrugged and let Donna lead him into the food aisles. Gerard decided at that moment if Frank came up to the counter with fifteen-dollars in fruit cups, Gerard was just going to buy it for him. No one wanted that gift card to be spent on food.

“He looks so nervous,” Ellen said softly.

“He doesn’t like to go shopping,” Gerard said. 

“After what his mother’s done to him, I’m not surprise,” the cashier whispered. “But your mom seems so nice…he has to know she’s not going to lash out at him.”

“He knows it, but I don’t think knowing it is enough. He’s spent his whole life getting beaten up and humiliated whenever he was in public—that’s not something you just forget.”

“Right… Do you think it would be weird if I hugged him? He’s just so—”

“Yes it would be weird. Don’t do it.”

Ellen whined but turned her attention back to her cash register when a customer came up to be checked out. Gerard took the chance to leave the counter and find Frank. He didn’t want him to spend all of his money on food. There was enough food in their house. He would rather see him buy headphones or nail polish—like the black nail polish he’d been trying to steal the first time Gerard had ever seen him. 

When he found Frank, he was digging through the bins of cheap CDs and movies while Donna was shopping for candy behind him. Looking up, Frank flinched when noticed Gerard watching him. 

“I-I didn’t take anything,” Frank said quickly. Donna turned away from the racks of candy, a vicious scowl on her face.

“I didn’t think you did,” Gerard said offering a smile. “I just came to hang out. I don’t have anything to do.”

“I really didn’t take anything,” Frank repeated, still staring in terror—as though he didn’t remember that Gerard was the same man who had let him sleep in his bed several days before, the same man who had comforted him after his mother’s abuse reached new extremes. 

“Frank, I know,” Gerard said, smiling. 

“Shouldn’t you be working?” his mother asked, going over to Frank and rubbing his shoulder.

“Fine, whatever—just don’t spend all your money on food,” Gerard said, tried to mask a scowl as he retreated back to the counter.

“What’s that face for?” Ellen asked, her voice soft.

“I was gonna go hang out with my mom and Frank, but he freaked out.”

“Aw. Poor kid. Were you giving him that look—because then I don’t blame him.”

“No, I didn’t _glare_ at him,” Gerard said, sighing heavily as he peered over the shelves to see if he could catch a glimpse of his family shopping. 

“Well, he probably doesn’t have a lot of good memories of you and the Spend N Save. I don’t blame him, Mr. Loss Prevention Nazi.”

“Okay, I didn’t know his mom was a fuckin’ psycho when I first caught him stealing. Can you get off my back about it? If I knew she was the crazy, I would’ve called CPS on her _that_ day.” He made sure his voice stayed at a low whisper, not wanting Frank to overhear a single word. The boy was finally making a little bit of progress in their home and he didn’t want to set him back. 

“I would’ve done anything to spare him what happened… I still don’t get how she could do that. He seems like such a sweet kid.”

“He _is_ a sweet kid. I’ve told you a million times, you can’t even get Frank _mad_ at you, he—” Gerard had to stop mid-sentence because Frank stepped out from around the corner and started looking around the health and beauty aisles. 

“I’m going to ask him if he needs help finding anything,” Ellen said, flashing Gerard a smile before hurrying out from behind the counter.

“Do it and you’ll scare him,” Gerard mumbled, knowing she couldn’t hear him. He expected to hear Frank start panicking after Ellen gave her “hi, can I help you find anything” speech, but instead Frank actually asked her a question. 

Ellen excitedly showed him something in the aisle they were already in and somehow managed to get Frank to laugh along with her. Moments later she came back to the counter and stuck her tongue out at Gerard after Frank had hurried to the other side of the store in search of Donna.

“What?” He snapped.

“Oh, nothing. It’s just, I can help Frankie shop, but you can’t.”

“How is that even—”

“Don’t act like you’re not jealous.”

“I’m not _jealous—”_

“If you weren’t such a Nazi at work, you would get to help him.”

“He only let you help him because I told him you’re a pedo with a crush on him and he doesn’t like to disappoint people.”

“You’re an ass,” Ellen said, all of her good humor fading. “Why would you tell him that?”

“I didn’t really say you were a pedo,” Gerard mumbled. “But he does think you have a crush on him.”

“Ugh, it’s not a crush! He’s just sweet. I want to take him home and take care of him.”

“Well if things don’t work out between him and my mom, maybe he can come cling to you when you make dinner.”

They continued to bicker back and forth until Frank and Donna finally came to check out. She bought a few bags of candy and some food, Frank bought fucking fruit cups, nail polish, and hair gel. 

“I told you not to spend your money on food,” Gerard mumbled.

“Shut up,” Donna said before Frank could even force out a syllable. “It’s not your money. Let him buy what he wants—and he _wants_ fruit cups.”

Frank looked nervous during the exchange, but once he had his bags in hand his demeanor shifted. While Donna was paying for her items, Frank leaned onto her shoulder the way he’d been specifically told _not_ to do in public. Then, when he noticed Gerard staring at him, smirked in a way that almost looked cocky and straightened himself up. He carried Donna’s bags for her and said goodbye to both Gerard and Ellen before leaving the store.

“What the hell was that about?” Gerard asked after they had gone. “Did you see the look he gave me?”

“Yeah,” Ellen said, grinning like mad. “I was trying so hard not to laugh the whole time.”

“What? It wasn’t funny—”

“Yeah it was! You tried to scold him and your mom shot you down. That was hilarious.”

“It’s not funny!”

“It’s _very_ funny.”

“But did you see that look he gave me?”

“Yes! That was the icing on the cake—he’s your mom’s favorite and he knows it!” She laughed at him until Gerard rolled his eyes and walked away, going to wander around the store even though it was empty and there were other things he could be doing on the computer—but the computer was up front with Ellen and he wanted away from her. 

It wasn’t long, though, before he returned to the front and got on the Spend N Save computer to check the inventory reports. He needed to do something to get that cheeky little smirk out of his head.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! A lighthearted chapter!

_Chapter 25_

Gerard was trying to go back to sleep after his mother had come down to wake Frank for school. He didn’t have work until noon and had been up late watching _Nightmare_ with Frank for probably the fifth time. He was on the cusp of sleep when he heard an insistent, continual whining from across the room. Slowly, he pulled his eyes open to form a sleepy glare as he stared at Frank’s bed.

The boy was lying on his back with his legs hanging off the edge of the bed, his feet planted on the floor—groaning like someone was stabbing him.

“What the _fuck_ is your problem?” Gerard moaned, rubbing at his face with his hand still wrapped up in his blanket. If Frank had sounded sad or scared, he would’ve been more gentle, but he just sounded like he was whining for the sake of getting attention and when Gerard was tired, it just pissed him off.

“My pants,” Frank said before letting out another loud, frustrated whine.

“What the fuck about your pants?” Gerard grumbled.

“They don’t _fit,_ ” Frank called out before growling deep in his throat. 

“So get a different pair.”

“It’s all the _same!_ They don’t _fit!_ I can’t even…ugh!”

“Wear a pair of mine—just stop whining. I’m trying to sleep.”

“Your pants are too _big!_ I tried yesterday—ugh! They don’t fit—Gerard, what am I supposed to do? I can’t go to school if I can’t button my own fucking _pants!_ ”

“You were wearing pants yesterday. Just put on those ones.”

“But they’re dirty…” Frank complained, kicking his legs in frustration while growling like some kind of an animal caught in a trap.

Gerard sighed in irritation and pulled his blankets up over his head. His hopes for sleep were dashed, however, when his mother called down to Frank from the top of the basement stairs. She asked if everything were alright and Frank whined that they were. That pissed Gerard off even more, because things _weren’t_ fine. Frank was whining like a baby because he’d gained too much weight to button his jeans.

“His pants don’t fit!” Gerard yelled.

“Let him wear yours,” Donna called back.

“They’re too big,” Gerard said.

“So have him wear a belt!”

“Tell him yourself!”

During the entire exchange, Frank lie on his bed groaning and trying to suck in his gut enough to get his zipped up the rest of the way. He must’ve succeeded because after a few more moments of strained groaning, Frank let out a heavy sigh of relief and fell lax against the bed.

“You good?” Gerard asked.

“No,” Frank grunted. 

“What’s wrong now?”

“I can’t breathe… I don’t want to go to school.”

“You went through all that work to get your pants on—you’re going to school.”

Frank whined but made no motions to get off of the bed. 

“You’re going,” Gerard repeated.

“I know,” Frank said before heaving a heavy sigh and crawling out of the bed. “I’m so uncomfortable.”

“We’ll go out this weekend and get you new pants,” Gerard muttered.

“But that’s, like, three days away. I can’t even move in these pants…”

“Shut. Up. About. Your pants,” Gerard moaned. 

“They hurt though,” Frank said, his voice starting to sound sad. He wasn’t getting enough empathy and in recent days he’d developed a certain level of comfort in pleading for affection. He knew no one here would turn him down no matter how tired they might be…

“If they bother you that much, wear a pair of mine—who cares if they’re too big? I have belts.”

“But they’re so baggy on me…”

Gerard groaned and rolled over. He wanted to yell at him and tell him to just spit out “what the fuck do you want then?” But if he did that, he knew Frank would just shut down. 

“Do you want to be able to breathe or do you want to not have baggy pants?”

“Neither—I just want to be comfortable. These pants hurt and if I wear your jeans they’ll make fun of me…”

“No one is going to make fun of you for wearing baggy pants! That’s the style right now—pants so baggy they’re falling off your ass.” Unable to take it anymore, Gerard flung off his blankets and got out of bed. He went to his dresser to retrieve a pair of dark wash jeans and chucked them toward Frank. “Those ones are too small for me, so maybe they’ll fit better.”

Frank made a noise of complaint, but that quickly turned into a sigh of relief as he unbuttoned his jeans. Gerard was able to catch—in the brief seconds before he turned away—the red mark left on the soft skin of his abdomen from where the button and rough fabric had been cutting into him. 

It made Gerard feel a bit guilty that Frank had held off this long to complain. He couldn’t imagine how much it did hurt to walk around at school and sit hunched over at desks all day with jeans that were literally cutting his skin. That wasn’t something that happened over night—he’d been gaining weight for weeks. 

When Frank finally changed into Gerard’s jeans, he let out another pleased sigh and stood up from the bed. The jeans sagged to the base of his hip and Frank dug around for a while in one of his drawers until he found one of his belts. 

“Better?” Gerard asked.

“Much,” Frank said, letting out another happy sigh before hurrying upstairs to get breakfast.

Gerard watched him go, thinking to himself that he understood where Frank was coming from when he said he was worried the other kids might make fun of him—he looked better in the skinny jeans. The baggy pants made him look shorter, smaller…

( ) ( ) ( )

Shopping with Momma had been a nightmare. She would spend too much, buy too much, force him to pick things just for the sake of picking them, not because they looked good on him or because he liked them, but because he needed clothes and the ugly sweaters fit the bill. Even being in small stores like the Spend N Save caused his anxiety to spike. Then, after all the good were bought and taken home, his mother would start analyzing the receipts and lose her temper when she saw how much she’d spent on her stupid, worthless, ungrateful son. 

So standing in the crowded shopping mall with Gerard was one of the worst things Frank could possibly imagine happening to him at Donna’s house. His foster mother refused to come with them and insisted that she trusted him and Gerard to pick out good outfits—good _clearance_ outfits. It was reassuring that Donna gave them a budget, but Frank was still fearful that he’d somehow go over—or maybe under—and Donna would be upset. If he only spent fifty dollars of the one-hundred dollar budget, she could get the idea that he didn’t appreciate her offer. 

“Frank?”

“Hm?”

“I need you to do something for me,” Gerard said. He had on a leather jacket and sunglasses even though they were indoors. 

“What?” Frank asked, looking up at him as they walked slowly through the crowded walkway of the shopping mall. 

“I know I work for a Spend N Save and see a lot of people, but not this many people. And I get anxiety in busy places so I need you to stay calm. If you stay calm, I can stay calm.”

“Okay,” Frank said, trying not to give under the added pressure. He didn’t want to panic in the first place, but now he felt even worse about it because if he got upset, Gerard would as well. 

“Let’s…let’s be a team. Okay? We’ll just…go in every store that’s not expensive.”

“Okay,” Frank said, nodding and following Gerard into one of the many shops. They made their way to the jeans first since they were what Frank needed the most. His shirts could stretch and still fit him somewhat decently, but his pants had actually left red abrasions and bruises on his abdomen and hips. 

Gerard had him try on a few different pairs of the non-clearance jeans just to figure out which size worked best. It made Frank a little uncomfortable when Gerard took it upon himself to make sure there was enough space between Frank’s hips and the waistband of his jeans, insisting they should buy one size larger than what fit so there was room for him to grow. 

Frank didn’t like that idea. He was happy to see his rib bones slip away under his skin, but at the same time he didn’t want to let himself get…fat. 

Certain pairs of jeans were on clearance, though only one pair in the style that he liked was on the sale rack. He picked it out along with one of the other pairs of a not-as-flattering cut and made the resolve to come back and buy more if none of the other stores had jeans in his size that he could afford. More than anything, he needed pants that didn’t cut him open and it didn’t matter so much if they looked good so long as they fit. 

The two pairs of jeans alone took nearly a quarter of his budget and Frank felt a bit discouraged as he flipped through the clearance racks of shirts. He needed more pants, but buying all the pairs he needed would easily take up all the money he had to spend—and he really wanted to buy something nice that he liked instead of something expensive his mother enjoyed seeing him in.

“These are ugly,” Gerard said as he flipped through the racks. “We sell better looking shit at Spend N Save. Come on—let’s try a different store.” 

Without having to say anything in response, Frank was led happily out of the store and down the busy channel of the shopping mall into the next shop. Half of the store was designed for girls and the other half for boys. The shirts were all extremely gaudy with bizarre graphics on every tee and what wasn’t in fluorescent colors had little gems stuck on it—as if some of the girls’ department had crept over to join the boys’. 

Frank did, however, find another pair of skinny jeans in his size that were only ten dollars on clearance because of a stain on the side of one leg. Frank was sure Donna could get the stain out if she tried, and if not Frank would wear them regardless. He hadn’t even noticed the stain at first since it was a deep red color mixed in with the dark denim.

“You know that’s probably blood, right?” Gerard asked as they walked out of the store and approached the next one.

“So? Blood washes out.” Frank knew that to be a fact.

“Yeah, but it’s gross.”

“But it washes out,” Frank repeated in a matter-of-fact tone. Gerard chuckled at him and kept a small smile on his face as they entered the next shop. It was hard to tell if that smile were genuine or not since he had the large, dark sunglasses still placed over his eyes. 

The next store they stopped in was another one of the larger chain stores with a massive clearance section. Frank was able to find a handful of cheap, plain shirts that fit him much better than the clothes he had on. Gerard tried to coax him into looking at shirts with graphics on them or even stripes or modest prints, but Frank preferred the solid colors with maybe a single small detail on the wrists or around the bottom hem. He didn’t want his clothes to attract any attention to him, and the colorful graphics Gerard kept picking out would no doubt draw eyes to him. 

After buying a few t-shirts and two long-sleeved sweaters, they moved on to a few more shops. At the second one, Frank picked out two button downs on the pretenses that he might need them if he were to go to church or if there was ever a need to dress nice. There was around ten dollars left by the time Frank finished picking things out and Gerard stated that they should check out the music and video store. 

“If you see something you want and don’t have enough, I’ll pay the difference,” Gerard said as Frank flipped through the CD racks. 

Frank wanted to tell him that wasn’t necessary, but he couldn’t help the butterflies in his stomach which formed at the idea of Gerard spending extra money on him. Gerard had already done so much—even chipping in to buy him food and his new bedroom furniture. Whenever his mother spent money on him it always ended badly. She would go from happy to spend it to whipping him for draining all of her funds. Gerard kept asking to spend money on him—and if Frank refused, Gerard would do it anyway whenever Frank wasn’t around. 

Knowing he would feel too guilty for picking out a random CD—unable to tell if the artist was good or not based on the cover art and track listing—Frank moved over to the rows of DVDs. Gerard stayed in the back corner of the store, flipping through the rock CDs and creating a small stack of albums in one hand. Frank kept watch of him, smiling a little when Gerard finally felt comfortable enough to push his sunglasses up onto the top of his head where the dark lenses blended in with his black hair. 

Every now and then Frank would look up from the DVDs to see if Gerard had moved or if he’d put any of his CDs back on the shelf. Then, one of the times he looked up, there was a girl at Gerard’s side. 

He didn’t know why, but his stomach did a flip at the sight and his heart rate picked up—almost as if he’d seen something frightening. The girl wasn’t a worker, Frank noticed, because she didn’t have a name tag or a red store lanyard around her neck. She was just a customer—a customer who was smiling at him and pointing at one of the albums in his hand. 

Frank thought to go over and see what album it was, but realized he probably wouldn’t recognize it and he would just make himself look foolish. With a huff, Frank looked back down at the DVDs. He’d somehow side stepped all the way down the aisle from the drama movies to horror and found a zombie move in his hands. He pretended to be analyzing the text on the back, but most of the time he had his eyes trained on Gerard and the woman. 

When she got Gerard to laugh, Frank forced himself to look away and turned his attention back to the movies. None of them could hold his interest and he just wanted to go back home. 

He didn’t look up again until he sensed eyes on him, and when he looked up Gerard was approaching him from across the store, the woman nowhere to be seen. 

“Find anything?” Gerard asked, smiling at him.

Frank looked down and shook his head. 

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Frank mumbled. He knew that if he let Gerard catch on that he was unhappy it would just create trouble, and he didn’t want to repay Gerard’s kindness and generosity with drama. Doing that would just prove everything his mother said about him was true—that he was spoiled and selfish and ungrateful. 

“You sure?” Gerard sounded concerned this time and Frank winced. He didn’t want to make Gerard upset.

“I’m hungry,” Frank said.

“I was gonna ask if you wanted to stop at the coffee kiosk and get some coffee. If you want, we can get something in the food court. Mom’s gonna have dinner for us when we get home so we can’t get too much.”

“Okay,” Frank said, trying to muster any emotion he could to mask his true feelings. 

“You sure you’re alright?” Gerard asked as the two of them walked over to the check out so Gerard could buy his six CDs. 

“Yeah,” Frank said. Gerard didn’t look convinced, but let the issue drop. 

Gerard ordered himself a coffee, but Frank just stared at the menu. He didn’t know what anything was—his mother never even let him have coffee at home. Gerard had given him a cup one morning at breakfast, but Frank didn’t care for it even with sugar to help make it sweet. Most of the drinks had milk in them—Frank knew that much—so there was really nothing he could have from the place that wouldn’t make him sick. There was an asterisk at the bottom of the menu board saying “soy available” but he wasn’t about to try to form a request and order some expensive drink he didn’t know and end up wasting money because he didn’t like it. 

Apparently his silence wasn’t enough of a hint for Gerard to realize that Frank didn’t want anything, because Gerard started ordering a second drink after he was handed a cup of black coffee. A few minutes later, they were on their way to the food court, Frank carrying a small soy chai latte that was too hot to drink. 

He ordered a plain pretzel from one of the stands and as he carried it the car with all of his bags, Frank finally dared to take a sip of his drink. It was still too hot to really taste anything, but it was sweet—not at all bitter as he’d expected—and when Frank looked up from the cup, he noticed that Gerard was watching him with a smirk on his face. Even with his sunglasses on, Frank could tell this time that the look extended to his eyes as well. 

Frank felt his cheeks beginning to burn and turned his gaze back down at the cup. After the bags were all put in the backseat of Gerard’s car, Frank got into the passenger seat—his eyes still on his cup—and slowly finished off his pretzel as Gerard drove them home.


	26. Chapter 26

_Chapter 26_

“Hey, I wanted to ask you something,” Jamia said as she handed Frank a bowl of plain ramen. They were hanging out at her apartment after school and had already walked the pug leaving the dog sleepy and uninterested in Frank. A little dejected, Frank sat on the couch and watched television with his friend who had been going on and on about a girl she had a crush on. 

“What?” Frank asked, shifting around to cradle the bowl in a way that wouldn’t burn him so he could stir the noodles. They had no seasoning or sauce and Frank knew they would be bland, but he was hungry and knew it would be another few hours before dinner time so he didn’t complain.

“There’s a party tomorrow night at Kristen’s house. Do you want to come?”

“I… I don’t know,” Frank said, suddenly feeling both excited and then frightened in the same moment. He’d never been to a party before and he didn’t exactly know who Kristen was besides a senior in his art class. If he went, more likely than not he would just get picked on. “I wouldn’t know anybody.”

“Well, duh—that’s why you go! To meet people.” Jamia sat down next to him and stirred her own bowl of ramen. “And I’ll be there. I promise I won’t ditch you unless Chelsea asks me to go upstairs with her—and we both know she’s not gonna do that.” 

“I’d have to ask Donna,” Frank mumbled.

“I’m sure she’ll let you come. I’ll even tell her Kristen’s parents are gonna be there if she asks.” Jamia smiled at him and Frank felt compelled to smile back. Parties made him nervous and he didn’t want to ask Donna and have the question offend her in some way. Also, if she said know, Frank would honestly feel a bit disappointed. 

“I don’t know… I’ve never really gone out before.”

“All the more reason she’ll let you go. I can ask for you if you’re too shy,” Jamia said, nudging Frank’s arm with her elbow until she got him to smile. 

“I’ll ask her tonight after dinner. Can Mikey come?”

“If…if he really wants to,” Jamia said. It wasn’t that she and Mikey disliked each other, they were just different people. They had little in common and their personalities seemed to clash whenever they were in the same room. 

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to invite him along. It seemed to make Jamia uncomfortable. But he had a feeling if he was invited and not Mikey, Donna wouldn’t let him go. 

Maybe he shouldn’t ask… Maybe he should just tell Jamia that Donna said no and forget about it. 

“It’ll be fun, I promise—and if you don’t like it, I’ll take you home no complaints.”

“Are you sure?” Frank asked. It wouldn’t feel so bad if things went wrong and he could go home, but when the moment came would he really be able to ask her to leave the party? Probably not…

“It’ll be fine, Frankie! Why are you so nervous?”

“No one likes me… If I went there, no one would even talk to me.”

“I’d talk to you—and there’s gonna be kids who don’t go to our school there, so they won’t know your reputation. And besides—everyone’s gonna be too drunk to care, Frankie!”

“There’s going to be drinking?” A party with drinking and strangers. Donna was never going to let him go.

“You don’t have to drink if you don’t want to. I won’t force it on you. I really just want you to come. It’d be good to get you out of the house for a while.”

“I’ll ask Donna but I don’t know if she’ll let me,” Frank mumbled.

“Okay—but actually _ask_ her. Trust me—if you don’t tell her it’s a party and she finds out it was, she’s gonna get mad.”

“I know,” Frank said.

“Don’t sound so unhappy. It’s a party, not a funeral!”

“Yay,” Frank said sarcastically before slurping up a mouthful of ramen.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank stood in the corner of the strange living room trembling and holding on to a bottle of beer. Jamia had promised she wouldn’t leave him, but not thirty minutes into the party she’d slipped away with a girl. She said she’d be back in just a minute, but that was almost an hour ago… 

Frank nervously took a sip from the beer and fought the urge to spit it back out. It was weird—not exactly bitter but far from sweet. It left his tongue feeling dry and against his better judgement he took another sip. This time he shuddered at the bad taste. 

There was loud pop music blasting over the speakers so everyone in the crowded living room had to scream at one another instead of talking. It put Frank’s nerve on edge, but Jamia said if he would just drink a little he would be able to calm down. He’d already smoked a cigarette on the way to the party and then another just outside before coming in. She’d said those would help but he was still anxious. 

After scanning the room once again for Jamia and catching no sight of her, Frank forced himself to chug the bottle of beer and headed for the kitchen to get another. He didn’t want to leave her behind—Donna had told him it was bad for guys to leave the girl they came with unattended at a party—but he couldn’t see spending the rest of his night cowering in the corner like a kicked dog.

In the kitchen, a group of five girls were standing around the bottles and cups on the counter and Frank hesitated a moment before swallowing the lump in his throat and going over to them. He didn’t recognize any of them and prayed they didn’t know anything about him. It was his biggest fear that someone would come ask if he were the kid from the dick-sucking video, but so far no one had really even acknowledged him.

When he reached the counter, the girls stopped talking all at once and then looked him up and down, one of them starting grin. Once the other four saw her smiling, they began to smile as well.

“Hey—my find Emily makes a wicked Long Island. Do you want to try?” The tallest of the five girls asked, looking over at the girl who had first started smiling at him.

“Um, yeah. Sure—that sounds great actually,” Frank said, trying to sound casual. He stammered a little but hoped the girls would mistake it for surprise—or drunkenness. 

“Awesome,” the tall girl said, giggling and grabbing one of the red plastic cups. 

The first girl—a short, blonde girl in a pink tank top—started grabbing bottles and pouring them into the cup. Frank looked away for a moment, hoping Jamia would return before he did something to make a fool of himself, and when he looked back the blonde girl was handing him the cup. 

“I hope I didn’t make it too strong,” she said, waiting anxiously for Frank to take a sip.

He took a small drink and found it sweet—but not too sweet—and then almost immediately sour, and although he could taste the alcohol it wasn’t overpowering. 

“Is it good?” The tall girl asked.

“Yeah,” Frank said, flashing a smile. The girls _all_ started giggling and Frank felt his cheeks start to burn. In an attempt to hide it, he raised the cup and took another drink. 

“So—what’s your name?” The blonde girl asked? She was smiling at him, a huge smile and Frank tried so hard to hide how nervous she made him. 

“Uh…Frank.”

The girls laughed again. 

“I know—not…not the best name in the world,” he said nervously. He could think of a lot of names more appealing than Frank. _Any_ name was more appealing than Frank…

“I like it,” the blonde girl said. Her friends busted out laughing and Frank took another drink, unsure of how to respond. In the end he settled for asking her if the name he’d heard before—Emily—was actually her name. She said it was and then started making herself a drink. Without any prompting, she made Frank another drink and he felt compelled to finish the very full cup still in his hand as quickly as possible.

For some reason that made the girls cheer. The girls talked amongst each other for a moment and then Emily smiled up at Frank and grabbed his free hand. He was so startled he flinched, splashing a little bit of his drink, but the girls just. kept. laughing. 

“Come here—we’ll go dance!” Emily said, guiding him into the living area where all other kids were. Frank tried telling her that he really didn’t know how to dance—and really wouldn’t want to if he did—but she smiled at him so cheerfully that Frank couldn’t bring himself to let her down. For the most part, he discovered, he just had to stand there and drink while the girl rubbed again him. It was weird, but not so bad. When she demanded he dance, Frank just copies what the other guys did and put a hand on her hip while she pressed her back and hips against his abdomen. 

After about three songs, Frank began to feel light-headed and the room appeared to be tilted slightly to the left. When he said so to Emily, she laughed and told him that meant he was dehydrated and needed to drink up—emphasizing her command by bringing his red cup to his lips and tilting the bottom until he’d swallowed half of the liquor left in it. 

It was around that time the other girls returned and started asking Frank if he came with any friends—if he had any brothers and what their names were. Why weren’t they at the party? Shy guys are just _so_ cute they said.

All the attention started to make Frank feel anxious and even Emily’s smiles weren’t enough to keep him calm. Every now and then he would take a nervous sip of his drink until he realize, with a moan of displeasure, that the cup was empty. 

“Do you want more?” Emily asked, pulling him into the kitchen before he could even voice an answer. Every step just made him dizzier and dizzier until he fell against the counter, giggling as he did because instead of feeling stupid, Emily made him feel silly. She didn’t think his clumsiness was embarrassing, she almost seemed to find it _cute._ She said so enough times, anyway. Frank had never been found cute by a girl before. 

He wished Gerard were here—He wanted to know if Gerard would think it was cute. He wondered if Gerard had ever gotten this drunk before!

“Aw, we’re all out of Long Island mixer…”

“Oh no,” Frank said, mocking Emily’s tone as she stared at the bottles. 

“Hm…I know! I’ll make you a Kitchen Sink.”

“A what?” Frank asked, giggling because he knew he hadn’t misheard her, but believed that she had misspoken. 

“A Kitchen Sink,” she said, giggling at him. “It’ll look gross but I _promise_ it’ll be super tasty.”

“Okay,” Frank said, shrugging and giggling. At this point, he doubted he could even taste anything anyway. He didn’t know how much time had actually passed because he swore the girls had only been talking to him a moment in the living room before he’d been taken to the kitchen, but the clock on the oven said it was already ten to midnight. Donna told him she wanted him home at midnight.

Looks like he was going to be late—oh well!

Frank started laughing almost hysterically, dropping his heated face down onto the cool counter in an attempt to stifle it. Emily asked what was so funny and Frank responded by saying she was pretty. He couldn’t explain to her that defiance was funny when he knew his new family would never punish him for it. 

And without Jamia he really couldn’t leave. Frank pulled himself up off the counter and looked around for his friend. She was nowhere to be seen and though he felt a little worried, he wasn’t about to panic over it. Maybe she and that girl she liked were hooking up in the bedroom like she’d hoped.

The thought made Frank giggle and he was handed another red cup. Emily told him not to look at it, but Frank did. It was a murky, greenish brown.

“The juice makes it that color,” Emily said.

“Okay,” Frank said, giggling and taking a sip. It tasted god awful, and then left a sweet taste on his tongue that was only _just_ bearable. 

“Is it okay? I can add more juice if it’s too strong.”

“It’s fine,” Frank said, smiling at her and taking another sip. He didn’t want to upset her any. She seemed really nice. 

So he stood with her in the kitchen and sipped at his terribly strong drink while she mixed vodka and orange juice together in her cup. He wished she would’ve made that for him instead of this nauseating Kitchen Sink, but he wasn’t going to ask her to trade. 

“I wish I had a cigarette,” Frank said after a period of silence between himself and Emily.

“I have a pack. Do you wanna…get some fresh air?” She asked, smirking at him and pulling a pack of Marlboro Reds out of her back pocket. The box was all smashed up and squished from when she had been grinding back against him earlier, but a smoke was a smoke. 

“Sure.” 

They couldn’t smoke outside the front door because the neighbors might see so they stepped out onto the back porch which was shielded by white lattice work. 

Frank found it hard to focus, and with every puff on the cigarette he became more and more dizzy and short of breath. He was starting to feel nauseous but fought it. Cigarettes had never made him nauseous before…

He asked Emily where she was from and tried to listen to her tell a story about switching schools because of bullying but his head was spinning and he kept looking away at the ground. Every now and then she would ask him something—once asking his phone number but Frank couldn’t remember if he’d given it to her or not—but not often. For a little while they held hands—after Frank had given up on smoking the crushed up cig—but he didn’t think it felt right between them. 

He must’ve told her so because when Frank looked up from the ground there was no girl with him and his cup was empty again with no offer for a refill. Sitting in the dark all alone started to make him feel sad, and despite his long sleeved shirt and the burning of his cheeks from the alcohol, Frank felt cold. 

It reminded him of when his mother had locked him out for the very first time. It had been in the sixth grade after parent-teacher conferences. The teachers had all unanimously agreed that he seemed distracted and that they felt his distraction was the reason he was failing most of his classes. They’d made her talk to the guidance counselor about him. 

When they got home she yelled at him, threw his book bag at him, and then locked him out of his house. He’d stayed at the front door the whole time like a stray animal, cuddled against the side of the house trying to get warmth from the heating vent on the other side of the wall. It hardly worked and he had a fever the next morning. 

She yelled at him for that too and made him go to school anyway in the same clothes from the day before. When the teachers called her and asked her about it, she hung up. The next week he was enrolled in a different school—one that didn’t ask questions. 

Sitting huddled against the door while the music continued to thrum behind him, Frank had a thought he’d been repressing for a long time. Momma was mean.

( ) ( ) ( )

It was past one-thirty in the morning and Donna finally gave in and called Frank’s cell phone. Her husband and Gerard both reassured her that Frank was probably just having a good time and had lost track of the time. (Gerard assured her he was probably drunk out of his mind and having a good time even though she had told him explicitly not to go drinking.) 

Frank didn’t answer the first time she called so Donna left a voicemail then called again fifteen minutes later. This time the call was answered and though Frank didn’t speak at first, she could hear loud music and voices in the background.

“Frank?”

Still nothing but the loud noises, only they were fading away a little as if he were moving away from the crowd.

“Frank?”

“Why are you calling me?” The boy asked, his voice sounding shaky and almost so unlike his own that Donna thought for a moment maybe his cellphone had been stolen and someone else had answered. 

“Frank, you were supposed to be home at midnight. It’s almost two in the morning. Where are you?”

“I’m at the party—I’m having _fun._ You have no right to call me!”

_“Frank._ You need to come home right now.”

“No!—No, you know what? _Fuck_ you. Okay? _Fuck you._ You have no right to call me!”

Donna felt the hostility directed at her like a knife to the chest. He was obviously drunk, but knowing that didn’t make his anger any easier to take. It was different to have Frank upset with her. The boy was always so gentle and kind to everyone, especially to her. 

“Stop it. I want you back at the house, do you understand me?”

“No! I’m not going back to your fucking house! I don’t _want_ to!”

“It’s not about what you want to do, Frank. I’m your guardian and I’m telling you to get _back_ home right _now._ ”

Frank screamed—actually screamed in her ear—and threw out a string of curses.

“You can’t tell me what to do! I don’t have to listen to _anything_ you say! You’re wicked! You’re wicked and I hate you!”

“Frank—”

“Shut up!”

Donna lowered the phone from her ear as the boy started screaming at her again—not saying anything coherent, just cursing for the sake of cursing. 

“What’s wrong?” Don asked, stepping into the living room. The hurt must’ve been showing on her face because he hurried over to her where she sat on the couch and put an arm around her. When she was unhappy, contact just made her uncomfortable so she shrugged him off and scooted away, putting the phone to her ear again. 

“—and I never loved you! Never! You’re wicked!” He kept shouting ‘wicked’ over and over until Donna finally mustered the nerve to cut him off.

“You need to stop it right now and come home.”

“No!”

“Stop it. Come home.”

“I’m not coming home, you bitch!”

“Hey! You knock that off right now. Get your _ass_ home or you can just forget about—”

“I said no!—Hey!” Suddenly Frank’s voice became muffled.

“Mrs. Way?—This is Jamia. I’m _so_ sorry. I’ve been trying to find him for over an hour.” 

Donna could still hear her foster son screaming in the background, only he didn’t sound angry with Jamia. His anger, it seemed, was reserved only for Donna. To Jamia he was pleading, his voice shrill and desperate as he asked her to give him his phone back. “We’re gonna start walking back right now. He’s really drunk and I’m _so_ sorry. He just disappeared and…tapped a keg or something. I don’t know how he got this drunk…”

“Just get him home now please,” Donna said firmly, taking the phone away from her ear and hanging up.

“What’s the matter?” Don asked again.

“Frank’s drunk,” she said, sighing heavily and trying to show annoyance instead of hurt. She understood that the boy was drunk, but there was more than alcohol behind the rage he’d directed at her. She never realized that the boy had held any resentment against her at all, and to have that level of hostility brought out was devastating. 

“Are you okay?”

“I’m _fine,_ ” Donna snapped, getting up from the couch before he could put his arm around her again. It was at that moment Gerard reappeared from the basement, dressed in his nightshirt and pajamas.

“Any news on Frank?”

“Jamia’s bringing him back now,” Donna said, going over to the window and looking outside even though she knew it would be at least thirty minutes before the boy returned. 

“Are you okay?”

“Just go back downstairs! This is not your problem,” Donna snapped.

“Jeez, fine. Whatever.” Gerard got something from the fridge and then stepped back down into his basement bedroom. 

Donna sighed and kept her gaze trained on the street. After a while, she spotted the two teenagers staggering toward her house. One was hardly able to walk and leaned heavily onto the other who repeatedly stumbled and struggled to keep her balance.


	27. Chapter 27

_Chapter 27_

Frank stumbled through the front door of his home, almost dragging Jamia with him down to the floor. He managed two steps into the house before his legs finally gave out and Jamia released her hold on him, letting him sink to the ground. He’d been begging her to let him sit down forever but she refused, insisting that he needed to rest before he could go on. She’d forced him to keep going even after he’d thrown up alongside the road. He apologized to her for being so sick, but she just kept shushing him and telling him it would be okay. 

It wasn’t okay though. As soon as he laid down on the floor, his body started shaking. The room was spinning rapidly around him and he gripped at the floor with his fingers in a desperate attempt to get it to stop. Even when he closed his eyes, it all just got worse and he let out a soft sob. 

“Mrs. Way, I’m _so_ sorry. He just _disappeared._ I had no idea—”

“It’s fine. Don, drive her home please.”

That was Donna’s voice and it was far from the gentle, nurturing tone he had become accustomed to. She sounded angry and that filled Frank with so much remorse and shame that he started crying harder. Whenever one of his sobs would get caught in his throat, he would gag. 

“I can walk, really,” Jamia said.

“It’s the middle of the night and you’re drunk. I’m not letting you walk home alone and get raped and murder. Don—get your keys.”

“I’m getting the keys! Relax.”

Frank rolled over onto his stomach, wanting to get to his feet and reach Donna’s side. He wanted her to stop being angry and thought that maybe if he hugged her she might remember that he wasn’t as horrible as he was acting. He knew how disrespectful it was to Donna’s generosity to stay out late and come home completely wasted after Donna told him not to drink. 

He heard keys jingle—loud and shrill, painful to his ears—and then the door slammed, leaving him alone with Donna. Frank tried crawling toward her, but she moved too fast for him and when he tried to call her name, he felt hands on his shoulders pulling him up from the floor.

“As for you—I hope you know you’re grounded. I don’t care what your mother’s done—I will _not_ tolerate this kind of disrespect. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” Frank said, trying to meet her gaze. The room was still spinning and he couldn’t bear the anger he’d seen in the brief second their eyes met. His balance wavered even though he’d been doing his best to stand still and he nearly fell back over, the only thing keeping him upright was Donna’s harsh grasp on his arm.

“After everything I’ve done for you, I can’t believe you would treat me this way. I thought by now you understood that if you have a problem with something I’ve done, you could tell me. Apparently I was wrong. I have to wait for you to get belligerent and _insult_ me!”

“What are you talking about?” Frank asked, covering his face with his hands as he stumbled back and forth before sinking down onto the floor. Donna let his arm fall and it smacked again the floor, Frank’s mind far too distracted by the nausea and the pain to stop it. He let out a whimper and pulled his hand to his chest, his knuckles bruised by the hardwood. “I don’t feel good,” Frank whimpered, hoping to gain at least some sympathy. 

Donna loved him—she said it before that she loved him. He wanted more than anything for her to forgive him. Losing her affection would kill him. He’d never meant for the party to get so out of hand. He didn’t know why he didn’t leave when he’d still had the time. Why did he let that girl give him another drink? He really hadn’t meant to make Donna mad!

“Are you going to throw up?” Donna asked, her voice holding about as much sympathy as his mother’s did after she whipped him or stomped on one of his hands.

“Donna, I’m sorry,” Frank whimpered.

“Are you going to throw up?” She asked again.

“I don’t know,” Frank said, his stomach tightening. He wanted to hold back but the more he tried the sicker he felt. “Maybe—Donna, I’m sorry.”

“If you’re going to throw up go to the trash can.” She tried to pull him back up but Frank couldn’t do it. Once his feet were under him, his ankles started wobbling and he fell forward. His face would’ve struck the wooden floor had Donna not been holding his shoulder. “Gerard! Come help me.”

The next thing Frank knew he was being hoisted onto his feet and guided out to the kitchen. He started gagging and just barely reached the kitchen sink before he started throwing up. 

“There you go,” Gerard said, his voice a quiet hum. He was rubbing Frank’s back between his shoulder blades and it was soothing despite the tremors wracking his body. 

Frank retched two more times before he sank to his knees in front of the sink. Gerard turned on the tap to rinse the sink then leaned down to pull Frank back up.

“Come on. Let’s go upstairs.”

“Upstairs? Why?” Frank whimpered.

“Well, for one the toilet is a lot easier to reach than the sink, the floor is cold, and Ma’s not up there,” Gerard said, his voice a soft whisper.

“Okay,” Frank said, groaning as he was half dragged, half carried upstairs to the bathroom. As soon as he was on his knees in front of the toilet, he threw up another time, Gerard still rubbing his back as he gagged. 

“Frank, I’m gonna go get you some water, okay? If you start to feel too dizzy, just lie down on your side okay?”

Frank moaned out a noncommittal answer as he propped his arms on the rim of the toilet, not thinking at all about the germs getting on the sleeves of his shirt. He rested his forehead against one of his arms and closed his eyes. The room was still spinning, but it wasn’t as bad.

After a few moments he felt a soft tap on his shoulder and when he picked up his head there was a glass of water being pressed to his lips.

“Drink.”

Frank obeyed, feeling he had no other choice with the glass so close to his lips. He was able to take two sips before he immediately turned and threw up again, collapsing into sobs.

“Is it ever going to stop?” He wept, laying against the toilet bowl while Gerard rubbed his back.

“Yeah, but you’ve gotta get some water in you. You’re dehydrated.”

“I’m dying,” Frank sobbed. It felt true, he could hardly take a breath without feeling the need to vomit. 

“No you’re not. You’re just drunk.”

“I’m _dying,_ ” Frank sobbed. 

“No, not until you’re sober and Ma really sinks her teeth in,” Gerard said, chuckling softly as if having Donna mad at him wasn’t the end of Frank’s world. 

“Why is she so mad at me? I said I was sorry!” Frank sobbed. 

“Why is she mad?” Gerard asked, huffing. “Because you cussed her out on the phone when she called you.”

“No I didn’t! I never talked to Donna—I would never yell at Donna.” He wanted to say more but his stomach tightened and he ended up throwing up again. Gerard made him take another drink of water when he was finally able to catch his breath, but no sooner had he drank did he throw up yet again.

“Frank, when Mom called to ask why you weren’t home, you yelled at her. That’s why she’s upset with you.”

“But I didn’t talk to Donna,” Frank whimpered. None of this was making any sense and he really just wanted the room to stop spinning so fast. He collapsed against the floor, the cool tiles feeling merciful on his neck

“Yes, you did. You yelled at her.”

“I would _never_ yell at Donna—she’s my momma; I love her,” Frank cried, tears overcoming his words. Why did everyone think he was mad at her? She could hit him with her car and he’d never say a thing about it. 

“Well, you did yell at her. Maybe you’re just too drunk to remember.”

“No—I didn’t talk to Donna. I never talked to Donna at the party.”

“Yes you did.”

“No!” Frank sobbed hard and rolled onto his back. Immediately his stomach lurched and he cried as he had to sit up to be sick. “I’m dying,” he wept. 

“No you’re not.”

Gerard had to hate him now—now that he saw that all the things his mother said about him were true. He was worthless, he was ungrateful, he was stupid.

“Come on, don’t cry,” Gerard said, rubbing Frank’s back until he stopped getting sick and then forcing him to finish off the glass of water. He stood up and refilled the cup in the sink and held onto it as Frank laid himself back down on the floor. 

“Why is Donna so mad?” Frank cried.

“Because you yelled at her on the phone, Frank. You cussed her out.”

“No I didn’t! Why would she lie like this? I’d never do that to Donna.”

“But you did,” Gerard said. 

“No! I wouldn’t do it,” Frank sobbed. 

“But you did, Frank.”

_“No!_ I wouldn’t ever yell at Donna—she’s my momma! I love her.” And he said it over and over, hoping Gerard would believe him. 

“You need to drink more water. Lay on your side.” Frank rolled where Gerard’s hand guided him and managed to take a few sips from the glass before lying his head down on the floor. 

( ) ( ) ( )

After Frank had blacked out on the bathroom floor, Gerard set the glass down near his head and stood up, washing his hands in the sink before going back downstairs to face his mother.

“He passed out,” Gerard informed his mother who was sitting on the couch, her arms and legs both crossed. She still looked irritated, but he knew very well that under her hostility was pain. She loved Frank—he was her new, _good_ son. Having him scream at her and swear at her had broken her heart. “Dad’s not back yet?”

“I asked him to pick me up some fast food. If I’m up this late, I might as well eat. That boy can make himself breakfast if he’s hungry in the morning.”

“If he wakes up,” Gerard said, sitting the in the chair across from the couch. 

“Mikey still in bed?” Donna asked. 

“Yeah, he…he peeked in the bathroom for a minute but I told him to go back to sleep.”

“Frank passed out you said?”

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t leave him lying on his back did you?”

“No. He’s on his side. I’ve been around a lot of drunk people; I know how to handle them.”

Donna said nothing.

“He swears up and down that he didn’t talk to you,” Gerard said.

“That doesn’t mean he didn’t do it!” His mother snapped. 

“I’m just saying, he was drunk. He didn’t mean it.”

“Oh, he sounded like he meant it.”

They sat in awkward silence until Don returned.

“Boy left his phone with Jamia,” he said, trying to hand it to his wife. She only grabbed the fast food bag in his hand and ignored the cellphone.

“I’ll take it,” Gerard said, reaching out for the phone. When he had it in his hand, he stared at it for a long time and then turned it on. Frank didn’t have a passcode on his phone and Gerard was able to open up the boy’s call log. It wasn’t that he believed it when Frank said he hadn’t spoken with Donna, he was looking for evidence so Frank would stop denying it.

When he looked down at the list, however, his eyes widened.

“Hey, Ma, I think I figured out what happened.”

“Gerard, I am eating—I don’t want to hear about it,” his mother spat, leaning over the coffee table as she went to take a bite of her burger.

“No—you don’t get it. Ma, look.” He set the phone down onto the cushion beside her and, after growling in frustration and rolling her eyes, Donna finally turned to look at the phone.

The last two calls were from Donna’s number, listed in Frank’s phone as Momma.

As if not believing what she was seeing, Donna grabbed up the phone and pressed the call back button, waiting until she heard her own cell phone ringing from where it sat charging on the kitchen counter. 

“He was confused, Ma,” Gerard said. 

“He has me in his phone as his mother,” she said, staring down at his phone in disbelief, all of her anger gone.

“Which explains why he freaked out—because he thought you were his mom, his _real_ mom.”

“I guess that would make sense,” she whispered, staring at the phone even though the screen had gone dark. 

“He’s gonna feel so bad when he realizes he said all that shit to you,” Gerard muttered. His mother hummed, then frowned and retuned to eating her burger.

“He’s still going to be grounded.”

“Yeah, that’s fine—just don’t yell at him. He’ll kill himself if you show him you’re mad, and you know it.”

“I’m not going to scream at Frank. I know how sensitive he is—you should go check on him.”

“Okay,” Gerard said, getting up slowly and going back upstairs. Frank was still lying on the floor where Gerard had left him, his breaths deep and heavy. Gerard leaned over Frank’s body to flush the toilet—the boy not even stirring at the sound—and then sat on the floor beside him, just watching him as he slept to make sure he kept breathing. 

When Frank let out a low whimper, Gerard scooted closer to him and reached out to touch his cheek. The boy’s face was still flushed a bright shade of red and there were shiny tear tracks running down the side of his nose. Gerard wiped them away with his thumb then pushed the greasy strands of Frank’s hair out of his face. Frank twitched and let out a moan, one of his hands coming up to protect his face from Gerard’s touches. 

After nearly fifteen minutes of sitting and staring, Gerard tried shaking Frank’s shoulder. He needed to drink more water before he slept for the night. Still, Frank didn’t wake up and Gerard let out a heavy sigh. He was about to go back downstairs and watch television for a while as he waited for Frank’s system to work through the alcohol enough for his body to return to a functional state, but then a familiar smell struck his nose.

“Oh, damnit, Frank…” Gerard muttered, looking over and noticing that the front of Frank’s jeans was stained a few shades darker than the rest of the denim. “How much did you fuckin’ drink?”

Frank remained unresponsive no matter how hard Gerard shook his shoulder. 

“Damnit,” Gerard groaned, knowing he couldn’t just leave the kid in soiled clothes. In the past, when he’d looked after drunk friends or blacked out dates, he would leave them—it became a joke or a punishment for them being lightweights—but it was different with Frank. The kid was already going to be so upset when he finally sobered up; he didn’t need to wake up to the shame of soaking wet jeans as well. He was still going to be in trouble for staying out late and drinking in the first place, and Gerard knew how hard Frank would take it when Donna expressed that she was disappointed in him. If there was any way to lessen the amount of humiliation and shame he would feel, Gerard was willing to do it. 

He got up from the bathroom floor and passed his mother in the living room without saying anything. Once in his bedroom he collected a pair of pajama pants and one of his old t-shirts that Frank liked wearing to bed and then returned to the bathroom, ignoring it when his mother asked him what he was doing. 

“Alright,” he said, mostly to himself but also trying to make noise in the hopes that Frank would wake up and be able to change himself. When that didn’t work, Gerard sat back down next to him on the floor. He took a deep breath before grabbing the hem of Frank’s shirt, pulling it up little by little, exposing Frank’s sharp hips, his pale—slightly pudgy—stomach, his ribs… Gerard had to roll Frank onto his back in order to slide the shirt completely off, Frank’s arms gliding free of the fabric. 

Gerard sighed and looked down at Frank’s sleeping face. It wasn’t long before his eyes started to wander, looking for scratches or scars. There was some sort of discoloration on the peak of his left hip, the skin slightly paler than the rest of him in a three-inch long line. Something had cut him at some point. 

He grabbed the pajama shirt and slowly fit Frank’s wrists and head through the holes, surprised and slightly irked that the boy stayed unconscious through the treatment. He didn’t want to have to change the boy’s pants. It was too intimate—it was _weird!_ But he couldn’t just leave him like this.

Though he tried and tried to wake Frank all the while taking off his shoes and socks, the boy barely even moaned in his sleep. Gerard expected him to start having seizures or to stop breathing all together. Someone as small as Frank shouldn’t have drank that much… _Really_ shouldn’t have drank that much, Gerard thought, groaning in disgust when he realized the boy had pissed himself _again._ Hadn’t he gone _at all_ during the party?

Gerard swore that if he changed him and then he pissed on himself a third time, he was on his own to get cleaned up. 

All Gerard could think as he started undoing Frank’s belt was that this was wrong—it was so wrong. Frank was a teenager. Gerard shouldn’t be touching him like this.

But it wasn’t like he was getting off on it! The kid was covered in piss and vomit—that was hardly a turn on. He had no reason to feel embarrassed or guilty. Changing Frank out of his wet clothes did not make Gerard a pedophile!

The smell of urine just got worse and worse as Gerard tossed Frank’s soiled jeans into the hamper. Now came the hard part—changing him out of his boxer briefs without seeing anything underneath…

Or maybe it wasn’t the hard part. Gerard turned his face away and hooked his fingers around the elastic hem on either one of Frank’s hips. In no time at all he had them down to his knees and was able to slip them off without having to look at anything other than Frank’s bony knees. 

He was about to try slipping Frank’s pajama pants onto him with the same level of skill, but as soon as he had the cuffs fit around Frank’s ankles the boy started squirming. When his sleepy brain realized his ankles were essentially bound, he started whimpering and trying to kick Gerard away. 

Gerard had no choice but to look down and focus harder, returning one of Frank’s ankles to the leg of the pants. He got them up to Frank’s knees before the boy let out a sound like a scream. It startled Gerard so badly that he looked up to check his face, afraid the boy had woken up and thought he was about to be assaulted—or _beaten._

But Frank’s face, although contorted with fear, was still closed off by sleep, his head lolled back against the floor as he groaned. He was still unconscious, but not for long. Gerard took another deep breath and looked back down, unable to keep from catching a glimpse of the boy’s flaccid penis. He hadn’t meant to let his eyes linger, but as soon as he saw that swatch of skin, it was like time froze. 

There were scars and dark marks, not just on his member but his inner thighs as well from how hard his mother had struck him that morning. It made Gerard’s stomach tightened and immediately after he realized without a doubt that this was _real,_ this was _permanent_ damage, he was able to turn his eyes away, a hand coming to his mouth to ward off the nausea. 

He knew Frank was going to wake up at any seconds, but he couldn’t bring himself to look back down. Knowing what his mother had done was one thing, but seeing it was another. This had to be _killing_ Frank. Every day it served as a reminder. Every day for the rest of his life. He could never get close to someone and feel confident about it, not when he knew that eventually he was going to have to show those scars and explain them—relive them. 

When the boy let out a whimper, Gerard shook his head and forced himself to focus on the task at hand. He didn’t need Frank waking up in a room reeking of piss with his pants half off, his older foster brother practically between them. 

He grabbed the waistband of the pajama pants and yanked them up, covering the scars and purple marks. Not a minute later, Frank’s eyes snapped open and he let out a loud cry before rolling over and puking on the floor.


	28. Chapter 28

_Chapter 28_

About three hours after Gerard had changed Frank into pajamas, the boy finally woke up and stayed awake for more time than it took to throw up and sob that he was dying. Gerard made him sit up and lean against the wall of the tub, helping him to stay upright until Frank could do it on his own. Frank was able to slowly drink two glasses of water and keep them down, but once Gerard got him to stand up the boy began to complain of a headache and started crying again. 

“You drank way too fucking much. I hope you know that,” Gerard said as he poured Frank a cup of mouthwash. He held Frank’s shoulders to keep him from falling over as he rinsed his mouth and spat in the sink. 

“When did I put on pajamas?” Frank asked, moaning as he continued to spit into the basin of the sink. 

“The last time you woke up. You said your clothes smelled bad.”

“They probably do,” Frank whimpered. “I feel so tired…”

“Good. You’re going to bed.”

“Is Donna there?”

“In your fucking bed?—No. She’s in her room. _Sleeping._ Like you need to be.”

“But I don’t feel good,” Frank whimpered, falling against the sink. Gerard sighed and pulled him back up. He had Frank drink another cup of water then left him alone to go pee—in the toilet for the first time that night. 

Frank did fall down again though, just before opening the bathroom door so Gerard had to go in and help him back up.

“I hope you had a good time last night because at this rate, you’re probably never going to be allowed out again until you’re thirty.”

“Is Donna still mad?”

“Probably—I don’t know. She’s asleep.”

Gerard started leading Frank down the stairs, going slow and helping the boy keep his balance with every step they took. 

“Can you wake her up and ask?”

_“No._ That would _guarantee_ she’d be pissed at you.”

“Oh,” Frank said, a sad, disheartened whimper. “I don’t want her mad.”

“Trust me. I _know._ ”

“She’s my mom now—did you know that?”

“Yes, yes.”

“Do you think that bothers her?”

“Do I think _what_ bothers her?” Gerard asked, sighing heavily as he and Frank finally reached the first floor of the house. One more flight of stairs to go.

“That I’m her son now—cause they had her sign all the papers. Do you think it bothers her?”

“No, Frank. It doesn’t bother her. What _does_ bother her is you coming home late and pissed drunk.”

“I was home late?” Frank asked.

“How are you _still_ drunk? You’ve been passed out for hours. What all did you drink?”

“I don’t know… Emily kept giving me stuff.”

“Emily, huh? Get her number?”

“I don’t know… I think we fought. I might’ve told her I like you—I don’t know.”

“You told her you liked her and that’s a fight?” Gerard asked, shaking his head as he got Frank down the flight of stairs in the basement. 

“No—I told her I like _you,_ and that’s a fight.”

“I’m sorry—you told her _what?”_ Gerard froze, grabbing both of Frank’s shoulders and making the boy face him. 

“We were on the porch talking and she held my hand…and I liked it, but I didn’t feel it. Then…I think she went to kiss me but I told her I liked someone else.”

“And you told her _my name?”_ If Frank told some girl he didn’t like her because he had a crush on a _boy,_ the ridicule he was going to face at school on Monday would make the whole sex tape fiasco look insignificant. 

“No… I don’t think so. I told her I like someone else, but I meant you.”

“Why the fuck do you keep saying that!?” Gerard asked, guiding the boy to his bed and sitting him down. Once he let go of Frank he backed as far away from him as he could. His heart was pounding and each thrum of his pulse sent more and more waves of anxiety through his body. 

“Why are you yelling at me?” Frank asked, looking at Gerard sadly like a kicked dog. 

“Why—why are you telling me you _like_ me!?”

“I don’t know…”

“You don’t know?” 

“No… I don’t feel good.”

Gerard shook his head and tried to force himself to calm down. Frank was drunk. How many times had he had drunken dates profess their unending love to him under the influence, even though they’d just met? Some people were affectionate drunks. Frank was affectionate all the time; of course he’d be even more so drunk. After all, the kid had asked if his foster mother was waiting for him in his bed. The kid obviously didn’t know what the fuck he was saying.

Frank didn’t mean any of it so Gerard didn’t need to make it into a big deal. At least not until the morning when he would be hung over. Gerard would keep the loss of bladder control a secret, but there was no way he was going to keep from teasing Frank for asking if his mom was in his bed. That was just too funny. (Plus he wanted to hear how Frank’s sober brain would justify it.)

“You need to get some sleep, Frank. Come on.” Gerard went back over to Frank’s bed and pushed on the boy’s shoulder until he laid down. “And stay on your side.”

“Why?”

“So if you puke in your sleep you don’t choke and die.”

“Ew. That’s really gross,” Frank whined as Gerard pulled the blankets over him. 

“You’re the one who decided to get sloppy drunk.”

“Well she kept giving me drinks. What was I supposed to do?”

“Stop drinking them! Didn’t you realize you were starting to get sick from it?”

“Yeah…but I was thirsty.”

“Frank, pro tip, when you feel sick, _stop drinking.”_

“I didn’t feel sick until she made me drink the sink.”

“Drink the what?” Gerard asked, going over to his dresser while taking off his shirt. He could feel Frank watching him and it made him uncomfortable. The boy _always_ watched him change shirts and Gerard was afraid that the whole ‘I like you’ thing had something to do with it…

“The sink. All the Island was gone, so she said she’d make a Sink.”

“Frank, you know what that means right? The ‘Kitchen Sink’?”

“It means they’re out of Island.”

_“Long_ Island. A Kitchen Sink means you pour all the left over booze into a cup with some left over mixer and call it a drink. No wonder you’re shitfaced!”

“Why are you yelling at me?” Frank whimpered.

“I’m not yelling at you,” Gerard said, rolling his eyes. 

“Gerard?” 

“What?” Gerard asked, his voice an irritable sigh. For three hours he’d been waiting for the kid to wake up just so he wouldn’t have to worry that he’d stop breathing. Now he just wanted the boy to go back to sleep.

“Can I sleep next to you?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No, Frank. Go to sleep.”

“But what if I don’t wake up?”

“You’re fine. You drank some water. You’re not going to die in your sleep.”

“But I really don’t feel good.”

“Well whose fault is that, Frank?”

The boy let out a sad whimper but Gerard refused to indulge it with a response. There was no way he was letting Frank sleep next to him—not sober and certainly not drunk. It was his only hope that when Frank woke up in the morning he had a headache from hell and couldn’t remember anything that had happened. If he slept beside Frank and the boy woke up with no recollection of how it had happened, there would be hell to pay.

“Is Momma mad at me?”

“What?”

“Momma…is she mad at me?”

“Do you mean like your mom, or my mom?”

“Mom,” Frank said, as if that was really enough of a distinction.

“No, Frank. No one is mad.” It wasn’t exactly true, but he didn’t want to have Frank start sobbing. 

“Okay,” Frank whispered. “I really love Donna.”

“Yes, I know you do.”

Gerard turned off the light, ignoring the low whimper Frank let out when the room went dark. Even after Gerard had nestled down in his blankets and made to go to sleep, Frank still kept babbling at him until finally, _finally_ at six-thirty in the morning the boy passed the fuck out. In roughly two and a half hours, Gerard had to be up for work.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank woke up feeling his pulse in his head—like a hammer pounding into his skull and cracking it. He whimpered and rolled over, his vision swimmy until finally coming to focus on a full glass of water on his bedside table. He stared through the thankfully dim light and let his eyes slowly drop from the glass to the little white dots on the wooden table beside it.

Groaning, Frank made himself sit up and blinked hard, clearing his vision so he could focus better. The white dots beside the glass were pills—pain pills for his awful headache. His hand shook as he took a sip of the water and then popped the tablets into his mouth. He swallowed those as well, thankful for the cool water which soothed his burning throat. 

After he set the glass aside, Frank pulled himself out of the blankets and started getting dressed, stumbling and falling down more than once. He smacked his eye on the corner of his dresser and let out a loud yelp. 

“Frank?” Donna, calling him from upstairs. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Frank said, whimpering as he rubbed his eye. 

“I made you lunch. You should come eat.”

“Okay,” Frank said, too quietly for her to hear him. He got back on his feet and stumbled up the basement steps. 

“What, did you get in a fight last night too? Why’s your eye all red?” Don was standing at the kitchen sink with a cup of coffee, looking at Frank with unmistakable disappointment. 

“I don’t know,” Frank murmured, sinking down in his seat at the table. Donna came and set down a plate of salad in front of him. 

“You don’t know?—Can’t you remember anything from last night?” Don asked, coming to the table as well. It made Frank nervous when both of his foster parents sat down across from him with no plates of food for themselves. 

“I… I remember a girl,” Frank stammered. “She…she gave me the drinks.” Frank felt the shame eat away at him once the words were out. There was no way to convince them he hadn’t been drinking last night, but to say it to their faces made him sound arrogant—like he disobeyed them and didn’t care. Like he had no respect for Donna at all even though nothing could be further from the truth.

“So what did you and this girl get into?—She take you upstairs?”

“Don!” His wife slapped his arm and scowled at him. 

“What?” He was smiling and that left Frank feeling horribly confused. Don seemed to find him amusing, but Donna was disappointed. That was the only thing that mattered. He’d upset Donna and there was no telling if she would ever actually forgive him.

Frank whimpered and covered his face with his hands. 

“You better not have taken that girl upstairs, Frank,” Donna said, disappointment in her tone.

“I don’t even know what that _means,”_ Frank groaned, rubbing at his eyes. He really wanted the pain pills to kick in, but his hope was fading fast. 

“Then don’t worry about it,” Donna said, her tone hard. Frank couldn’t tell if she were angry at him or her husband, but it hurt him either way and Frank just wished he could go back downstairs to bed. “Eat something. It’ll help you feel better.”

Frank picked up his fork and started eating. The lettuce was fresh and though it didn’t help his headache, it settled his stomach. Neither of his foster parents spoke to him as he ate—content instead to bicker with each other—but as soon as he set down his fork, Donna’s eyes were on him. 

“I think you know we need to talk about last night,” she said.

Frank swallowed hard and stared at down at his empty plate. Immediately he felt like throwing up, but was too terrified to ask to be excused. His rational mind told him that Donna wasn’t going to strike him or beat him the way Momma would if he disobeyed her, but his body remembered all the pain he’d endured. If Momma had let him go to a party and he’d come home late—late and _drunk—_ the beating he’d get would make his whipping seem like love taps. 

“I’m sorry,” Frank whispered, not knowing what else to say as the silence began to drive him crazy. It allowed his mind to wander and no matter how hard he crossed his legs under the table, he still felt the pain radiating up his spine from the blows he’d received weeks upon weeks ago.

“Frank…” Donna sounded so disappointed and Frank just couldn’t handle that. He loved her so much and he’d never meant to disrespect her. 

“I’m really sorry, Donna,” Frank added. 

“Yes, I know you’re sorry. But you were supposed to be home by eleven and I told you _not_ to drink—”

“I’m _really_ sorry,” Frank said, his voice and hands trembling. He kept telling himself over and over that she wasn’t going to hurt him, she wasn’t going to hit him, no one was going to beat him, but nothing soothed him. He was in trouble, and being in trouble scared him. He knew well what angry mothers were capable of. 

“You need to calm down, Frank.”

“I’m sorry.” It was the only thing that came to his mind. He really _was_ sorry. He didn’t know what he’d been thinking. One drink he knew he could lie about and hide—but why would he ever let himself be so disrespectful as to lie to Donna? 

“I know you’re sorry, but you’re still grounded.”

“Grounded?” Frank echoed.

“Yes. Grounded.”

“Do you at least know what _that_ means?” Don asked.

Frank didn’t know how to answer. Grounded meant something was taken from him—and all Frank had to take away was food. Donna promised she’d never hit him, but she never said anything about keeping him fed. Salad was hardly a lunch…maybe that was all he’d get from now until Donna decided she wasn’t mad. Then he’d lose weight and all his new clothes would be too big. That would just make her angry, too—just like Momma. 

“Do you?” Donna asked, sounding a bit baffled. 

“That I don’t…get dinner,” Frank whispered. 

“Don’t start that. You know we’re not about to starve you,” Don said. His tone was harsh and Frank flinched, already anticipating a blow. He wanted it to come so badly—one hard strike to the face so he wouldn’t have to wait any longer. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop that, already. When you say it that many times it stops being genuine.”

“Don, knock it off.” 

Frank wanted to apologize again but didn’t want to make Don any angrier. He’d never been struck by a man before and didn’t want to find out how much worse it hurt. 

“Come on, he knows he’s not going to get _starved._ He knows if he cries, you’ll go easy on him.”

“Don…”

“Donna, he’s seventeen. You let him get away with this now, he’s never going to take anything we say seriously. He’s _lucky_ you’re not still mad about that phone call.”

“Oh, shut up,” Donna said, slapping his shoulder again. Her tone was light, but Frank was too far gone to feel relief. 

Phone call. He remembered a phone call that came from _Momma._ And he’d yelled at her—told her all the awful feelings he had toward her, how much he hated her for what she’d done…

Only he hadn’t said those things to Momma. He said them to Donna—because, like an idiot, he put Donna into his phone as Momma, foolishly believing that she could replace the monster who’d birthed him. He’d said those awful things to _Donna._ Donna! 

Maybe she was being kind and civil with him now, but Frank knew what she had to be thinking of him. What sort of demon would say those awful things to his own mother? His mother who was _sick?_ She couldn’t help herself. Frank could. Frank knew better. 

Donna was going to know how terrible he truly was, and she wasn’t even going to _like_ him anymore let alone love him. Everything in his life had been so close to perfect—then he decided to throw it all away because some pretty girl kept handing him drinks and he didn’t want to see uncool. 

“All it means, Frank, is you have to come home straight home after school—no stopping at friend’s houses or for snacks,” Donna said. Frank couldn’t respond to her. 

Friends? He didn’t have friends. Not anymore. Jamia had abandoned him at that party and without her he’d gotten himself into so much trouble. He wouldn’t ever put himself in that position again. He swore he would never talk to _anyone_ again. It would be like when he was with Momma—he’d be obedient and quiet and stay out of everybody’s way. 

Maybe if he stayed out of sight long enough, Donna might forget about those terrible things he’d said. But who could ever forget being cursed at and insulted by a pathetic, ungrateful demon? After everything she’d done for him, he repaid her by calling her wicked and screaming in her ear. Donna would never forget that. Even if she said she understood, it didn’t change the fact that he’d angered her—hurt her. 

Frank had never felt more terrible in entire life. He felt lower than when his mother would belittle him at the dinner table or shout at him in public. She didn’t need to be there for Frank to hear her voice weighing in on the matter. 

He was a _stupid child,_ a _worthless, selfish demon._ How _disrespectful_ could he possibly be? It was no wonder people _hated_ him. He didn’t _deserve_ love. 

“Can I go to my room?” Frank stammered, trying not to cry in front of her because he didn’t want Don to yell at him. 

“Clean up the dishes first,” Donna said. “And you could really use a shower before you go back to bed.”

Frank slowly got up from the table and took his plate to the sink, shaking as he turned on the faucet and started washing it. The trembling became so bad he dropped the plate twice in the sink, his hands slick with water and soap. Then, as he was about to set it in the drying rack, it slipped out of his hand and smashed against the floor. 

He let out a cry of fear and stepped back from the shattered glass, dread and fear mixing in with the guilt and pain he already felt. They were going to think he did it on purpose—to retaliate against them for grounding him when they all knew what he deserved was to be thrown out. Thrown out and left to fend for himself on the streets so he could learn to appreciate all the nice things they’d done for him—new cell phone, new clothes, a new bed, a place to _sleep_ at night. 

His heart was pounding as he stared at the shards of glass at his feet, his mind racing with images of things his mother would do to him if he’d even shown her half of the disrespect he’d shown Donna and her husband. He wouldn’t be allowed to eat, he wouldn’t be allowed in the house, he wouldn’t be able _sit_ after the beating he’d get. The bad memories came faster and faster and all Frank could do was stand there and stare in horror. 

Then the nightmare became real when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry!” Frank cried, falling against the kitchen sink and immediately dropping onto the floor. He raised his arms to protect his face, knowing a slap was coming and knowing he’d exchanged it for kicks. “Momma, I’m really sorry!” He made sure to keep his knees together as he sat on the floor, protecting his most sensitive areas including his stomach and chest. 

“Frank—Frank, Hush. It’s okay.” 

The hands returned, stroking his hair—ready to tighten into fists and drag him to his feet. 

“It’s okay. I’m not mad. Accidents happen.” It was Donna, not Momma, but that still didn’t soothe him.

Frank was pulled against her chest, one hand on his head, the other rubbing his back as he cried. He felt so defeated and pathetic. His head still hurt, his stomach was sick, and now he couldn’t even breathe. 

“Come on—you need to calm down. It’s okay.” Her voice was so loud in his ear, but her words still didn’t reach him. He was irritating her and he knew that. It was like Gerard told him—Donna didn’t like to have him touching her all the time. He was making it worse. She was mad at him and he was forcing her to comfort him—making her hate him even more than she already had to. 

He faltered a few times, but Frank managed to get on his feet and stagger out of the dining room. He tripped on the basement stairs and almost fell, but grasped the handrail in time to stop himself. As soon as his bed was within reach, Frank threw himself down on it, burying his face in the pillow and hoping to suffocate. 

Everything had been going so well… Donna had said she loved him, had gotten him books and clothes for his birthday. Now she hated him. She _had_ to after how terribly he’d treated her. And he never _meant_ to hurt her! He loved her more than anyone in the whole world and yet he’d treated her worse than he’d ever treated anybody ever…

She would never love him now. If she even kept him in her house it would be because the social workers made her keep him. Just like his grandmother made Momma keep him.

Frank closed his eyes tightly as he sobbed, trying to work up the courage to do what he knew he had to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More drama in 29--sorry! Had to split it up because writing angst apparently makes me break out in hives now.


	29. Chapter 29

_Chapter 29_

Frank tried and tried to calm down, but whenever he thought he was starting to feel better, that awful voice in his head would start talking again. He heard his mother calling him all the bad names—each and every one from stupid and worthless to unlovable demon. He cried so hard his entire body was tingling and prickling, where even breathing became difficult. 

Whenever he’d hear a sound from upstairs—Donna, he hoped, coming to check on him—he would be able to stop just long enough to listen harder. But as soon as the footsteps came, they faded away, leaving him alone in his misery. He wanted Donna to come downstairs so badly. Shame kept him from seeking her out, and fear that she or Don would scold him for trying to cry his way out of being grounded. They didn’t realize that having them upset with him was more painful than anything they could ever do to him. 

He wanted forgiven, but it would never happen. Not after what he’d said to Donna. She would never forget those awful things. No one would ever love him the way she had—he’d wasted the only real affection he had on alcohol and a girl’s brief attention. 

A girl he knew would never, _never_ actually want him. He wasn’t even attractive or smart—and if she did see past that, they would never be a couple. She would want things he couldn’t give, and if he tried—if he let her close enough to see—she would be disgusted by him. She would see the scars, rough patches, and discolorations and be absolutely _sickened_ by him. If he tried to tell her what had happened, that would only make it worse. 

Girls didn’t like him. Girls would _never_ like him. 

The shame and self-pity grew stronger and stronger, taking away every good feeling he’d ever had about being with Donna’s family. He was stupid to think he’d ever be one of them. Mikey stopped liking him after the video, Don and Donna would hate him for what he’d done at the party, and Gerard…if Gerard ever knew the sick, sinful feelings Frank had toward him, Gerard would hate him too. 

Frank couldn’t take any more pain. All he wanted was loved. It was all he _ever_ wanted: Someone— _anyone_ —who liked him, cared about him, wanted to be with him. But who could love a demon? A worthless, selfish monster? Momma was sick, but she’d been right about him. She saw what no else did. 

_Stupid child. Worthless child. Demon. Horrible. Disgusting. Selfish. Unlovable. Ungrateful. Disrespectful. Ugly. Monster. Wicked. Sinful. Sodomite._

Mothers were supposed to offer support and unconditional love. His mother couldn’t even look at him without curling her lip in disgust. It hurt him so badly. He would’ve given anything to be what she wanted. He tried so hard, but now he knew it was a wasted effort. For the longest time he’d believed himself to be good. He knew that he tried to obey his mother—he cleaned when she asked, did the laundry, went to bed when she told him to go to bed—but now he knew he was wicked. Left to his vices he drank and tried to get close with girls just like his mother always told him he would. 

Again, the voice in his head started hissing cruel insults at him. He tried to block out the roar, but nothing could silence it. His chest grew tight and started burning, making it hurt to breathe even though he’d turned his face away from the smothering embrace of the pillow long ago. Now he stared across the room at the washer and dryer—eyes staying fixed on the shelf beside them…focused on the bottles. The bleach. 

After hearing footsteps at the top of the basement stairs for a third time, and after suffering through the agony of hearing them walk away and leave him, Frank finally sat up in his bed. He wanted Donna, but she wasn’t coming to comfort him. She wasn’t going to and she never would again. 

He ruined it, just like he ruined everything. He didn’t deserve her love. He would never earn back her trust. 

As soon as the desire and motivation entered his mind, he felt the sorrow become overshadowed by panic. It would hurt, Gerard told him. If he did what he was thinking it would hurt so badly.

But Frank could hardly imagine a pain worse than the one he was already in. His mother hated him. His father wanted nothing to do with him. His foster family had almost loved him—and then he’d ruined it with wicked sin. And if they didn’t hate him now, they would soon enough. Once they realized the sick thoughts he had about their son—the one they let him share a room with. 

Frank took a deep breath and crossed the room, not letting himself think as he grabbed the bottle of bleach off the shelf and took it with him back to his bed. He sat down and placed the heavy bottle in his lap.

It would hurt, Gerard said. It would burn and corrode everything in its path. In the time it would take to die, his screams of agony would alert Donna and they would take him to the hospital. He would waste their money on medical expenses to save his worthless life. But he had a high tolerance for pain. Maybe he could keep quiet through it all and Donna would never have to know until it was too late…

When he tried to uncap the bottle, though, that fear shot through him again and he started shaking harder than before. He didn’t want to do this—he didn’t want to be in pain. He didn’t want Donna to find him dead. What if the social workers blamed her and sent her to jail too?

With the bottle still in his lap, Frank covered his eyes and returned to sobbing. He didn’t want to hurt anymore. Things had been going so well and he’d been _so happy._ Why did he have to throw it all away? Why couldn’t he just be _good_ like he was supposed to? He really was a demon…born wicked and only capable of being saved through death when he’d be sent back to Hell. 

If he could get over his selfish fear of pain and dying, he could spare Donna and everyone else from whatever evil creature he’d become as he got older. 

He made himself uncap the bottle, the strong, chemical smell striking his nose and making him gag. 

He didn’t want to do this. He _really_ didn’t want to have to do this!

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard decided to leave work early after getting kicked in the balls by a fifteen-year-old punk who didn’t want to fess up to stuffing his coat with bags of Cheetos. It wasn’t the worst blow he’d ever received, but he was tired after nursing Frank’s drunk ass all night and any excuse to go home seemed like a good one. 

When he got into his house, his mother and father were standing in the kitchen talking in hushed tones. They stopped when he came in and that made him suspicious.

“What?” He asked. They continued to stare. “Where’s Frank?”

“In his room,” his mother said, sighing and stepping away from her husband. “You’re home early.”

“Got kicked in the balls again.”

“You should really start wearing a cup,” his father said, huffing a little and shaking his head.

“Everything okay?” Gerard asked. Their faces both looked so grave. Frank probably hadn’t taken getting grounded very well. Gerard had expected that much when the boy didn’t answer any of his texts that afternoon. 

“Frank’s upset. He’s been crying since…I don’t know, three o’clock.” It was going on seven. 

“I don’t hear anything,” Gerard said, going over to the basement door and listening. “Did either of you think to go check on him?”

“I called him for dinner but he didn’t come upstairs. I thought he could use some space,” his mother said, looking over at Don as if to say it was at her husband’s urging.

“Are you kidding me?” Gerard snapped.

“What?” His parents asked in unison. 

It irritated them that no one took it seriously when he warned them about Frank.

“I’ve told you before! Don’t leave him alone when he’s upset!” Not waiting for their answer, Gerard started down the stairs, muttering curses under his breath until his throat tightened and breathing became impossible.

Frank was sitting on his bed, a bottle of bleach in his hands, pressed to his lips. He was tipping it up, his head tilted back, face red and tear-stained—tightened into a grimace. As soon as Gerard heard the sound of the bleach splashing in the plastic container, all of the feeling rushed back to Gerard’s body and he bolted toward the bed. He struck the bottle as hard as he could, sending it flying against the wall and sending a spray of noxious-smelling chemicals all over the bed. 

Frank started spluttering and coughing, spitting out the bleach that he’d had in his mouth. Gerard looked toward the end table where he’d set the glass of water and pills that morning before leaving for work, praying there’d still be some water left in the glass so Frank could rinse his mouth before the chemicals could start eating away at the tissue. 

The glass was still mostly full and Gerard leaned over the bed to grab it here.

“Here,” his snapped, putting the rim of the cup to Frank’s lips and tilting it. More water spilled down Frank’s chin than actually went into his mouth, but once the boy understood what was happening he parted is lips and started to drink. “Don’t fucking swallow—just rinse out your mouth.” Frank looked reluctant to spit it out though, and kept looking around frantically. “Just spit on the fucking floor. Spit! There’s already fucking bleach everywhere. Fucking spit on the floor.” Frank obeyed, and as soon as the water was out of his mouth Gerard made him take in more. He rinsed three times before the glass was empty and Frank immediately started sobbing again as he struggled to breathe. “How much did you swallow?—Frank, you need to tell me how much you swallowed so I can get you help. How much did you fucking swallow?”

“I didn’t swallow any,” Frank cried.

“Don’t fucking lie to me right now—I know what I saw. How much?”

“None,” Frank said, his voice wrecked with tears. His entire body was shaking and his eyes looked so hopeless. 

“Don’t _lie_ to me, Frank. How much did you swallow?”

“None—really,” Frank sobbed. He reached out with a shaking hand and grabbed onto the hem of Gerard’s work polo. 

Had he not been kicked, had he toughened up and stayed at work like he was supposed to, Frank would’ve swallowed that mouthful of bleach. He could’ve laid in his bed dying until Gerard got home around nine at night. 

“What the hell happened, Frank? You know Mom’s not mad at you—you _know_ that. What the hell?”

He needed to stay calm. He needed to stay sane and not start screaming at the boy out of fear, but it was hard to do that when he was standing in a room that reeked of bleach—the fluid forming a puddle on the floor that crept toward his shoes. If he hadn’t decided to come home, Frank would’ve swallowed that bleach—he would either be in the hospital or dead. Most likely it would be the hospital, but what if it hadn’t been? What if Gerard had come home to find Frank dead? 

No one even bothered to check on him when he refused to come up for dinner. They left him alone.

Gerard would’ve come downstairs and found his body—cold, lifeless. Would he have thought the boy was sleeping? What if he didn’t realize until the morning that Frank wasn’t moving or breathing? What if he’d gone to bed next to a corpse? 

“What the hell, Frank?” Gerard asked, tears rushing him even though he tried his hardest not to lose his composure. 

“I don’t want to be alone,” Frank stammered, holding Gerard’s shirt tighter. 

“Okay—well now you’re not. I’m here. So tell me what the fuck you were thinking when you put fucking bleach in your mouth!” 

“That Donna was mad at me,” Frank cried. He was staring up at Gerard with large eyes, pleading for something though Gerard couldn’t even begin to fathom what. 

“Frank, she’s not even _mad._ ”

“I said those bad things to her. She _hates_ me now.”

“No she doesn’t! How the hell do you even come to that kind of conclusion!?”

Frank lowered his head and started sobbing, one hand covering his eyes while his other stayed fisted in Gerard’s polo. Gerard sighed and forced himself to calm down. He couldn’t yell at Frank even if it was out of fear. He’d been in this same place before, but with razor blades instead of bleach. If someone had come into his room and yelled at him after catching him, it wouldn’t matter what was said. It would’ve just made him try harder to keep his attempts a secret. 

The last thing he needed was Frank trying to keep fatal secrets. 

“Hey. It’s gonna be okay. I promise she’s not mad at you.” Gerard moved to sit beside Frank on the bed, letting the boy continue to clutch onto his shirt. He put an arm around Frank’s shoulders and pulled him close, setting his chin on top of the boy’s head. Finally, Frank released his shirt in favor of wrapping his arms around Gerard’s torso and holding him tight. Gerard hugged him in return, rubbing his back in an attempt to soothe him. “Mom loves you, Frank. She doesn’t care that you were out late or that you got drunk. It doesn’t change anything.”

“I said bad things to her,” Frank sobbed.

“Yeah, but you didn’t mean to. Mom knows that.”

“But I said them and it hurt her—I didn’t mean to hurt Donna. I _love_ her.”

“She knows that. Frank, you don’t even realize how happy it made her to see _why_ you said that shit.”

“I’m stupid. That’s why.” Frank squeezed Gerard tighter as he said it, desperately wanting for someone to tell him otherwise. All the awful things his mother told him, Frank believed. Gerard remembered what it had been like in high school, believing all the notes stuffed in his locker and scratched into his desk. After his first relationship failed, he believed all the mean things his ex-boyfriend had said—that he was ugly, insensitive, too needy, too cynical… Over all, not good enough for anyone. It hurt to feel that no one else would ever love him, but he’d known even then that he had his parents. 

Gerard couldn’t imagine what it felt like to not have even that. Frank’s mother hated him, his grandmother belittled him, and his father refused to take custody of him even after learning that he’d been abused. If Frank lost Donna’s affections, he really would have nothing.

“Frank, it made her _happy_ that you had her in your phone as your mom. She didn’t care about anything you said after that. You should’ve seen her face. She was smiling. It means a lot to her that you love her so much.”

Frank whimpered and nuzzled Gerard’s chest, wiping his tears off onto the rough fabric of the polo shirt. 

“You don’t have to feel bad for anything, okay? Mom loves you. She wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“But I don’t want to hurt anymore,” Frank whispered, holding Gerard tighter. Gerard sighed and kissed the top of his head, knowing nothing he could say would ever really help him feel better. Honestly, he wished the boy were still drunk. He knew the hangover couldn’t be helping with his mental state, but if getting grounded one time was enough to push him this far there was more going on in the boy’s head than he ever let on before. 

“Frank… It’s gonna be okay. No one is _mad_ at you. There’s nothing you need to feel bad about. You’re being too hard on yourself, you know?”

“I don’t want Donna mad at me—”

“She’s not _mad,_ Frank.”

“—and Don doesn’t like me. I shouldn’t be here if he doesn’t like me.”

“Where do you even _get_ these ideas? My dad likes you just fine.”

“He yelled at me,” Frank whispered, nuzzling Gerard’s chest more and more until Gerard finally pushed him back. 

“He _yelled_ at you?”

Frank wouldn’t look at him or speak up, choosing instead to stare at the bedspread between them. 

“Frank, did he actually _yell_ or did he just say something that…that hurt your feelings?”

Frank mumbled that Don had told him he was lucky he wasn’t in trouble over the phone call. 

“That’s not yelling at you…”

“Made me feel bad,” Frank whispered. “I don’t want them mad at me.” 

“Having people upset with you is just a part of life. No one here is going to _hurt_ you because of it, though. Mom’s not going to beat you or starve you. We’ve told you before, if you do something you’re not supposed to we’ll just tell you and ask you to stop. That’s as bad as it’s ever going to get. It’s nothing to try to _drink bleach_ over.”

Frank said nothing and stared down at the bed. 

“I’m going to get you some more water, okay? Don’t you dare get up from this bed. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” Frank whispered. 

“I mean it.” Gerard got up from the bed and picked up the spilled bottle of bleach off the wet floor. There was just a small bit of fluid left in the bottom of the container, the rest pooling on the concrete floor. 

He looked back across the room at the washer and dryer. There was a bottle of concentrated stain remover sitting beside the bottle of liquid soap. He doubted Frank would try anything again in the time it took Gerard to get upstairs, fill the glass of water and return, but he didn’t want to take any chances.

The boy wasn’t going to drink laundry soap, but he didn’t trust him around the stain remover. Gerard crossed the room and grabbed the bottle.

“And I’m taking this with me,” he said before grabbing the empty water glass from Frank’s hand. “Don’t try anything.”

“I won’t,” Frank mumbled, slumping down onto his pillow and curling up in a tight ball. He wouldn’t look Gerard in the eye as he spoke, but Gerard could think of nothing else in the room that the boy could use against himself in a short period of time. 

“I’ll be right back. Just try to relax.” He gave Frank one last, examining glance and then started up the stairs with the chemicals and water glass in hand. 

When he got into the kitchen, his parents were nowhere to be seen. He set the water glass in the sink—wanting to get Frank a clean one that would have no traces of bleach left on it from Frank’s lips—but took the bottles of cleaner with him into the living room where his parents sat watching television. 

His father looked at him confused, but as soon as his mother spotted the bottles in Gerard’s hands she stood up from the couch. 

“What happened?” She asked, her eyes wide and fearful. She grabbed the bottle of bleach from Gerard’s hand and stared at it in shock when she realized the bottle which had been purchased the week before was now close to empty. “Did—Did he… Is—Is he okay?”

Don stood up as well then and took the bottle from his wife’s hands.

“Did he _drink_ this?” Don asked, shaking the bottle and then looking at Gerard with the same look of terror his wife had. 

“Yeah, he fuckin’ tried. When I got downstairs he had it in his mouth. I’ve _told_ you not to leave him alone.”

“Does he need to go to the hospital? How much did he swallow?” His mother asked, keeping her eyes fixed on him as she started to move around him, heading for the kitchen and subsequently the basement stairs. Gerard and Don followed her.

“He says he didn’t swallow any. I made him rinse his mouth out.”

“We should still take him to the hospital—”

“If he swallowed it, he would be screaming right now. If you take him to the hospital they’re just going to put him on suicide watch.”

“Then what are we supposed to do?” She asked, looking to Gerard for an honest answer.

“Call his therapist and set up an emergency appointment for tomorrow. I’ll keep an eye on him tonight. You’ll probably want to give him a couple of days off school until you know he’s not going to run off in the middle of the day.”

“You really think that’ll help?”

“It can’t hurt. He needs to talk to somebody about it if we want to keep him from doing it again.”

“Are you sure he’s not just doing this for the attention?” Don asked, looking concerned about also skeptical. “He doesn’t like getting in trouble. This is a good way to get the focus off that and—”

“He had it in his mouth,” Gerard spat, going over to the sink and filling up a clean class with water. He left the bottle of stain remover on the counter before crossing back over to the basement door. “He had ever intent to swallow it, so if getting chemical burns down his entire fucking throat is all just a plot to get attention, then maybe he should get some fucking therapy for that too.”

“You don’t need to talk to me like that. I’m telling you a kid like him will do whatever he can to get out of trouble.”

“Yeah! Like fucking drinking bleach so he never gets in trouble again!” Gerard couldn’t stifle his rage. He could tell his mother was upset by it—she kept looking from him to the basement stairs grappling with the decision of whether or not she should go down and check on Frank alone or wait for Gerard to come with her. 

“Gerard, we didn’t even yell at him,” Don said. “He’s hardly even in trouble at all. He has nothing to be afraid of.”

“Having you upset is _all_ he’s afraid of. It hurts him. It doesn’t matter if you yell at him or not. I’m not saying he didn’t overreact, but he’s got _problems._ He isn’t normal.”

“Fine,” Don said, shaking his head and then turning to his wife. “Donna, do you want me to call his therapist while you go check on him?”

“Yes. The number’s on the fridge.”

“Tell them what he did,” Gerard added for good measure before starting down the basement stairs. Donna followed him after handing the empty bottle of bleach off to her husband.

Frank was still lying on his bed in the room that now reeked of bleach. When he saw Donna standing behind Gerard he started sobbing again and brought his hands to his face in order to hide himself. Gerard went over to the bed and sat down on the edge, ignoring the bleach that lapped at the soles of his work shoes promising damage. He put his hand on Frank’s shoulder and rubbed it softly, trying to offer him comfort. 

“Drink some water. You’re still dehydrated from last night,” he said, bringing the cup down and bumping the base of the glass against Frank’s hands which covered his face. The boy whimpered, but complied, taking one hand away from his face in order to grab the glass. Gerard helped to keep the glass steady as Frank brought it to his lips. He took a few small sips before stopping to breathe, then he finished off the water in a few quick gulps and let Gerard take the cup away. 

Meanwhile, Donna had grabbed some towels from the dryer and laid them on the floor beside the bed to soak up the bleach. When Frank noticed that she had gotten close, he sat up all the way and leaned against Gerard as if seeking protection. Gerard set the empty glass aside and put his arm around Frank’s shoulders, letting him know he was there to offer support. 

It wasn’t long, though, after Donna sat down at Frank’s other side, that the boy turned and clung to her instead. Gerard knew he should be glad that Frank was accepting her affection instead of continuing to indulge his theory that she was irrevocably angry with him, but it just left him feeling jealous. 

_Jealous…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk where Mikey is right now... Apparently he's either out with friends or in his room. Also, woot for Gerard wanting to be Frank's one and only go-to cuddle buddy. Because that's not a wee bit selfish or indicative of deeper feelings at all!


	30. Chapter 30

_Chapter 30_

Frank accepted the hot cup of tea that his therapist gave him. It was organic peach tea, she said—and herbal—meant to help him feel comfortable and relax. The smell was nice and did soothe him, as did he moist steam rising from the cup. Just cradling the hot porcelain in his hand was comforting as well. He was freezing cold though he was afraid to admit it. 

He’d been cold since the night before, even though Gerard made him sleep beside him in his bed—claiming he wanted to know if Frank tried to get up in the night. Frank was surprised he wasn’t still shaking. 

“You don’t look very comfortable,” his therapist, Dr. Cole, said. 

“I’m really cold,” Frank whispered, holding tighter to the cup of tea. 

“Oh. You still have your winter coat on…”

Frank sniffed and stared down at the tea. He just wanted to go back home and sleep some more, wrapped up in Gerard’s soft blankets. 

“Maybe you’ve caught the flu,” Dr. Cole said when Frank didn’t answer. She smiled at him, but Frank knew it wasn’t genuine. “I could get you a blanket if you need.”

“Okay,” Frank said, looking up hopefully. Dr. Cole nodded and got up from her chair. She stepped out of the small, cozy office, and returned a couple minutes later with a warm blanket that she draped over his shoulders as he sat on the couch. 

“That should help. Feel any better?” She sat back down and smiled at him as he wrapped the blanket tightly around himself. 

“Yes. Thank you,” Frank whispered. 

She then began to ask him about his weekend. She’d already spoken with Donna at length about their weekend and Frank didn’t feel like sharing any more information. He was embarrassed, but at the same time numb to it all. It didn’t seem to matter to him anymore. He told her about going to the party, told her it made him unhappy that Jamia had left him on his own, and admitted he drank as much as he did because he didn’t want to look bad in front of the nice girls who had been talking to him. 

Dr. Cole asked him why he thought they wouldn’t like him if he didn’t drink so much but didn’t dwell on it too long. The drinking wasn’t why he’d been brought to see her a day early or why their appointment wasn’t their slated hour but rather “however long he needed” it to be. 

“So…Donna tells me you had a bad night yesterday,” Dr. Cole said gently. 

Frank shrugged and stared down at the tea. It was finally cool enough to drink, but he missed the hot, fragrant steam. 

“Can you tell me a little bit about what happened yesterday?” She asked.

Frank didn’t want to talk about it, but he knew he would never get to leave if he just sat there in silence. Donna would be disappointed, but at the same time he couldn’t work up enough emotion in order to care. He just felt numb and empty. He couldn’t cry anymore or plead anymore. He could think clearly, but at the same time his mind was full of a hazy cloud where it didn’t seem to make sense to think about anything. 

“Donna told me…you tried to hurt yourself.” When he still didn’t answer, Dr. Cole added, “That you tried to drink some bleach?”

Frank frowned and continued staring at the tea.

“Frank, we need to talk about this. What was going through your mind at that point?—when you picked up the bleach?”

“That I didn’t want to hurt anymore,” Frank mumbled. 

“Why were you hurting?”

He told her about the things he’d said to Donna on the phone and how badly he felt for it whether Donna knew it wasn’t meant for her or not. It was mean to say things like that to anyone, even Momma. Momma was sick and she didn’t deserve to have her so attack her when all she did was call to tell him to go home. 

“Let’s discuss this a little more… Do you think you could tell me why you thought Donna was so angry with you?”

Frank shrugged. He no longer had that line of thought. He could remember being panicked and scared and anxious—he could remember feeling lost and helpless—but he’d spent all morning sleeping safe next to Gerard and then sitting beside Donna on the couch after breakfast watching morning talk shows before it was time for his appointment. 

“Was it something that was said to you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t feel bad anymore,” Frank said, shrugging again and taking a long drink of the now lukewarm tea. 

“I understand you don’t feel that way right now, Frank, but it can come back and that’s why we need to address it.”

Frank looked at her sadly and shrugged. 

“I just really like Donna. I don’t want her to stop liking me.”

“Why do you think she’d suddenly stop just because you stayed out late?”

“Because it was disrespectful…and I was rude to her. If I did those things to my mom, she’d probably never talk to me again.”

“Did your mother often ignore you if you did something that upset her?”

“Sometimes. She wouldn’t even look at me or talk to me for days. I don’t want Donna to do that too.”

She made him talk for a long time about his mother and the things she used to do to him when she was mad, then Dr. Cole made him talk about what Donna had said to him when he’d gotten home from the party. He couldn’t remember talking to Donna or much of anything from that night, but did remember lunch when she told him he was grounded. 

Still, he couldn’t exactly tell Dr. Cole what he’d been thinking the exact moment he picked up the bottle of bleach. He remembered feeling desperate and sad. He remembered that he didn’t really want to do it, but felt he had to. The memories were all there, but they seemed disconnected, like they had happened to someone else—like he’d seen them in a movie and couldn’t remember the order of events. 

“You said you didn’t want to do it?” She asked.

“I guess.”

“What made you feel like you needed to? Because you didn’t want to hurt anymore?”

“Because if I’m dead no one can hurt me and I can’t hurt them.”

“Do you think you hurt Donna?”

“I was mean in the phone call,” Frank whispered.

“Frank, how do you think it would’ve made Donna feel if you’d gone through with it?—if Gerard hadn’t come downstairs and stopped you?”

“I don’t know,” Frank mumbled. He really didn’t. Part of him believed she would be sad, and part of him thought she feel relieved to be rid of him. 

“I don’t think she would’ve been very happy to find you hurt or dead,” Dr. Cole told him.

Frank shrugged. 

“Why don’t you think she would be upset?”

When he still didn’t answer, Dr. Cole suggested that Donna come join them. When Frank didn’t protest, Dr. Cole got up and left the room. She returned about ten minutes later with Donna who sat beside him on the couch and put an arm around his shoulders. 

Donna spoke with Dr. Cole for a few minutes and in that time Frank finished his tea and let the empty cup on the small table in front of him. When he moved, Donna started rubbing his shoulder and stared at her hand before sighing and leaning against her shoulder. He wasn’t supposed to cuddle with her—especially not in public—but he just didn’t care anymore. He didn’t really have any feelings left and when he was close to her he at least felt something.

Dr. Cole had Donna make him sit up, however, and made him face her as she told him—for the millionth time—that she wasn’t mad at him and didn’t want to see him get hurt. Frank was then made to tell her why he felt she would be mad. Frank explained in quiet mumbles that he loved her and didn’t like the idea of her being upset with him over anything. He didn’t want her to send him away or stop liking him. 

Donna was asked to say how that made her feel—which she of course said made her feel bad—and then Frank had to share his feelings on it. Having Donna unhappy made him unhappy—because he loved her so much, he said. 

That was when Dr. Cole asked him about why he had Donna listed in his phone as Momma. Frank didn’t want to answer that question. He didn’t want to talk about it. It had been a stupid idea and it caused him nothing but trouble. 

“Frank, it’s okay to talk about it. We won’t judge you or criticize,” Dr. Cole said, pressuring when she had to be able to see how uncomfortable he was. 

“I love Donna,” Frank whispered, trying to pretend that his foster mother wasn’t in the room. It was hard when she had her hand on his shoulder and started to rub it. 

“Okay,” Dr. Cole said, leading him to say more.

Frank just shrugged. What more was there to say? He loved her. He put her in his phone as his mother. 

Seeming to understand that Frank would say nothing else, Dr. Cole turned her focus instead to Donna. 

“How does that make you feel? That…That Frank sees you as a mother?”

“It…It makes me happy. I love Frank very much,” she said, smiling at Frank and squeezing his shoulder a little more firmly. “He’s like another son to me—I really mean that.” 

The words warmed him, but not by much. He believed her, but part of him already knew Donna loved him that way. It was relieving to know she still loved him despite everything he’d done, but just because she loved him now didn’t mean it would stay that way. That was what he feared—that she would love him and then wake up one day like Momma had and realize she hated him. 

The thought broke through his mental haze and made a bolt of pain go through his chest. He felt like crying again but didn’t want to break down again—not in front of Dr. Cole. 

( ) ( ) ( )

“So…what’s got you down today?” Ellen asked, rubbing Gerard’s back as he leaned over the counter, staring at the aisles without really seeing any of it. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be with Frank at home and wished the boy would just answer his text messages and tell him how his counseling session went. 

“What are you talking about?” Gerard asked.

“Well, I’m pretty sure you just watched that kid stuff a bag of chips in his coat and you’re not even smiling. Something’s got you down.”

“It’s Frank,” Gerard muttered, taking his phone out of his pocket and checking it again. Still nothing. He’d texted his mother to make sure Frank hadn’t hurt himself while her back was turned, and she responded saying Frank was sitting with her on the couch watching the soap operas with her. Frank was safe, but he was ignoring Gerard and he didn’t like that. 

“Oh. Did something happen?”

“Yeah… Kind of.” It was really none of Ellen’s business, but when it came to his personal life, Gerard really didn’t have any friends. He needed someone to talk to and his coworkers were the only ones around to hear him vent. 

“What do you mean? Did something happen at school today?”

“He didn’t go to school today.”

“Is he sick?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah kind of?” Ellen asked, her tone sarcastic. 

“He tried to commit suicide last night.”

“What? You’re kidding, right?”

“No. He tried to drink bleach. I got to his room just when he was about to swallow it.”

“Oh my god… Is he okay?”

“He didn’t need the hospital or anything. I made him spit it out. We got him an emergency appointment with his therapist, but my mom says they didn’t really get anywhere.”

“Well why’d he do it? Did he say anything? I thought he was doing well since his birthday.”

“He _was._ He _was_ doing better. But then his stupid friend took him to some party Saturday night and he got really drunk, and he got home late. So he got grounded and he didn’t take that very well.”

“He tried to drink _bleach_ because he got grounded?” Ellen asked, staring at him in disbelief.

“My mom says all he’d tell his therapist is he was scared she’d be mad at him and he didn’t want her to stop liking him.”

“That’s heartbreaking! I still can’t believe he’d do that, though—just because he got grounded.” 

Gerard didn’t feel the need to tell her about the phone call or how Frank had cussed out Donna thinking she was his mother. 

“I just can’t get that image out of my head. He had that bottle in his mouth…he was seriously gonna do it.”

“That’s just so sad. Frank’s such a sweet kid…”

“I only got there in time because I left work early last night. My parents just left him in our room… It’s fuckin’ with me.”

“I can imagine! That would be horrible to walk in on… Are you sure you don’t want to just go home?”

“I can’t leave. I need the pay and I don’t have any vacation time.”

“That makes sense, but you’ve been here four hours and all you’ve done is stare.” Ellen stepped away from him then as the boy whose coat was stuffed with bags of chips came up to pay for a pair of headphones. 

He let Ellen tell the boy to empty his coat and didn’t even bother to intervene when the boy said no and ran out the door. His mind was on Frank.

( ) ( ) ( )

Donna's lips pressed into a thin line when she spied the name on the letter in her mailbox. It was addressed to Frank, and sent by his grandmother. The envelope was too small to be a belated birthday card and Donna didn’t like the idea of anyone from Frank’s family sending him personal letters—especially his grandmother who had known of his abuse and said nothing. 

She took the letter inside, but rather than setting it on the edge of the counter with the other bills for Don, she held it close and stepped into the living room. Frank was sleeping soundly on the couch, curled up in her spot and snoring softly. Once she realized he wasn’t going to come spy on her, Donna went back into the kitchen and leaned against the counter as she opened the letter. 

There were five pages stuffed into the envelope. The first page was a cold, emotionless update on his mother’s court case. She was still in the mental hospital, but was making progress with her new _female_ counselors. Frank didn’t need to worry, his grandmother wrote; his mother would most likely be sentenced to stay at the hospital and he would _not_ have put his own mother in prison. 

It made Donna hiss when she reached the bottom of the page. Frank had been badly beaten—and this woman knew exactly where and exactly how—and yet she had no pity. There was no apology, no ‘hope you’re well,’ nothing. She turned the page over, looking for more text on the back, but there was nothing. The other four pages, Donna realized, where written on different paper with different handwriting. When she turned the stack of papers over in her hand, she saw the name signed on the back immediately felt hatred singeing her cheeks. 

The letter was signed “Sincerely, Mother.” 

Linda was to have absolutely _no_ contact with Frank yet she had blatantly sent him a letter, using his grandmother as a means to reach him. Donna was not about to let that woman get to Frank and hurt him anymore than she already had. 

She folded the pages back up and placed them back into the envelope. After checking to see that Frank was still sleeping on the couch, Donna took her cell phone out of her pocket and called the caseworker. 

“Hello—Is everything going okay with Frank?” The caseworker asked. She had already been informed about the suicide attempt and there was genuine concern in her voice.

“Yes. We got back from the therapist a couple of hours ago, but I wanted to tell you about something I got in the mail today.”

“Okay.”

“I got a letter from Frank’s grandmother. I opened it—I haven’t given it to him. I don’t want to upset him anymore than he already is, but in the envelope there was also a letter from his _mother._ ”

“Oh—no, that’s not appropriate at all. I’ll contact her hospital and make sure they check all of her outgoing mail from now on. That’s not acceptable. I’m so glad you caught that before giving it to Frank.” 

“I didn’t read it. I—honestly, I just don’t want to get pissed off right now and have Frank thinking I’m mad at him.” 

“Yes. You’re definitely right. Is it okay if I come by tonight to pick up that letter? I’ll need to show it to the hospital so they know this is serious and so she can’t _lie_ about it.”

“Right. That’s fine. You need to do a welfare check anyway. Can you do that at the same time or do you still need to come Wednesday?”

“I can do the check if I’m over tonight.” They worked out a time that would be best, after dinner so Frank wouldn’t get upset and lose his appetite. “You can give him the letter his grandmother sent. You can’t really be filtering his mail, though…I guess this time it’s a good thing.”

“I don’t want to give it to him right now. It’s not a very nice letter,” Donna said softly. 

“Well, in this case I’d give it a few days and ask if he wants it. Again, you can’t take his mail, but we don’t want him to push him over the edge.”

They spoke for a few more minutes before the woman had to go do a welfare check on another family. Once she hung up the phone, Donna looked back down at the letter. She checked one last time to make sure Frank was asleep and then sat down at the dining room table and began reading. 

The first page, front and back, was a narration about what his mother was doing in the hospital—who she spoke to, who she didn’t speak to; who she liked, who she didn’t like—the front of the next page she started to say she was making progress. For a moment Donna felt it was a positive letter, gearing up for a sudden revelation of how terrible she had been and how Frank hadn’t deserved what she’d done. 

Then, on the back of the second page, Linda explicitly wrote that thinking of Frank no longer filled her with disgust and hatred. Now she didn’t feel anything when she thought of him. Nothing at all. It was relieving, she wrote. She felt so much better now that he was away from her. 

It made Donna want to cry. She could never imagine writing such awful things about her own sons. To go from _hating_ Frank to being glad to say she felt _nothing_ for him—and to call that progress—was sickening. 

She kept reading, shaking her head and clenching her fists at the nerve this woman had. The third page finally addressed the cruelties she’d subjected Frank to, but she didn’t exactly apologize. Linda dared to write that she _regretted_ how she had punished him, but hoped that she had at least spared him the sin of having children. 

She _hoped_ she had damaged him. She _hoped_ he would never grow up and go on to have a family. 

Why would she want to steal that joy from him? There was nothing in life that compared to the joy of children—maybe a demon like Linda didn’t see it that way, but she had no right to attempt to steal that gift from her son. She still gleaned satisfaction from the pain she’d inflicted on Frank that broke Donna’s heart. She’d never seen the way Linda had treated Frank—she’d only ever seen the aftermath. Now she could see the hold she had over him—the reason Frank was prepared to swallow bleach to avoid disappointing someone he loved. He was the victim, yet his mother and his grandmother both blamed him for getting Linda locked up for what she’d done. The letter lacked the cruel jabs Donna expected, but in the second paragraph on the forth page she’d written “I hope your new family knows discipline so that you do not take advantage of their hospitality. Once you’ve shown your wickedness, I’m sure they will not keep you long. If only you knew how to behave. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about you ending up on the street like an animal.”

It confused her and angered her. One minute she professed how much she disliked him, then said she was concerned that he’d end up on the street. It was manipulative—it was a way to tell Frank that he was unlovable yet she, and only she, was the only person who didn’t want to see him end up homeless. She, who used to throw him out and starve him for sport… 

Donna didn’t even realize she was crying until she saw her tears spatter on the paper. It hurt her so much to see even a glimpse of what Frank had been put through emotionally. He loved his mother—no matter what he’d said on the phone, he loved her—the woman who beat him and belittled him. He believed everything she said to him, and Donna knew that if he ever saw this letter he would be easily convinced that his mother was right, that his new family would be desperate to push him out as soon as they could. 

The creaking of the front door drew her out of her thoughts and Donna quickly crumpled the letter into a ball and stood from the table. She knew she needed to save it for the social worker, but she couldn’t keep from expressing her rage. She unfolded the paper just enough to be able to force it back into its envelope and then stuffed the envelope into one of the kitchen drawers.

“Hey,” Mikey said as he swung his backpack off his shoulder and let it smack down on the floor. Donna stared at him—her own son—unable to imagine anything in the world that would make her want to hurt him. “What?” He asked, looking at her as if confused. “Are you _crying?_ ”

“No, I’m not crying,” Donna said, turning away from him.

“Is Frank doing better?”

“I don’t know, Mikey. He’s sleeping on the couch,” Donna said, turning away from him and walking back into the living room. She leaned over the back of the couch and started rubbing Frank’s shoulder until the boy woke up. He moaned and rolled over onto his back before opening his eyes, staring up at her confused. “Mikey’s home. You boys should go work on homework while I start dinner.”

“Dinner?” Frank repeated, still sounding confused as he blinked awake. 

“Yes. I’m going to start dinner soon.”

“I’ll help,” Frank mumbled, sitting up groggily.

“You’ve got homework,” Donna said, making sure to rub his shoulder so he would know she wasn’t mad.

“Why are you crying?” Frank asked, still blinking hard as he tried to wake up.

“I’m not crying—come on. Get up.”

“Did I say something?” Frank asked, starting to get that haunted, anxious look in his eyes.

“No.”

“I can help with dinner and do homework,” Frank said, getting up from the couch and walking around it in order to hug her. Donna held him tight and patted him on the shoulder before placing a quick kiss on his temple.

“When you get your homework done you can come help me, okay? I’m just going to start cooking those garbanzo beans and you know that’ll take a while.”

“I can help clean them before I do my homework—”

“It’s okay. I want you to get some work done.”

Frank looked reluctant, but finally bowed his head and agreed. 

“Come on,” Mikey said, getting between them and putting an arm around Frank’s shoulders. “I’ve gotta tell you about what happened in English class today.” He spoke in a hushed tone as if he didn’t want Donna to hear.

“Did you finally ask her out?” Frank asked, going readily with Mikey who didn’t even have his backpack with them as they started up the stairs to Mikey’s room. 

“Well,” Mikey said as they climbed the stairs, “here’s the thing…” His story trailed off and Donna heard the bedroom door close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is going to be so much fluff you might drown. I promise it starts to get happier! And frerardier


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told people there would be lots of fluff this chapter--I lied, it's in the next one. I just wanted to post before too long and if I added the super fluff that's about to happen, this chapter would be about 7kwords long. Too super long!

_Chapter 31_

Gerard didn’t have work at all on Tuesday, and for that he was thankful. His mother wanted to go out to do the grocery shopping for the house and offered for Frank to come with her, but the boy refused saying he was too tired. (After spending all of Monday sleeping on the couch in between meals, Frank was awake all night, sitting up in Gerard’s bed and playing Mario on Gerard’s old Gameboy. Now that it was morning, he was tired again and just wanted to sleep.) Donna was reluctant to leave him on his own, but once she learned that Gerard had off work she was willing to let Frank stay home. 

They sat at the dining room table before she left though, flipping through the pages of Frank’s vegan cook book and picking out meals for the week. Gerard watched them from the kitchen sink for a while, sipping coffee while another pot brewed. His mother kept rubbing Frank’s back, their position hunched over the book together reminded Gerard of a kindergarten teacher trying to teach a child how to read. 

Gerard shook his head, wondering to himself how Frank was ever going to grow up—or what sort of person he would be when he did. Eve with therapy, he still behaved like a small child and probably always would. He didn’t have that need to be independent like Gerard always had. While most teenagers were programmed to fight and rebel, Frank had been beaten down so much all he wanted was to be obedient. Gerard daydreamed of earning enough money to move out into his own apartment, and he was almost certain Frank dreamed of staying in this house with Donna until they were both old and decrepit. 

A day and a half ago, he had been determined to end his own life in one of the most painful ways imaginable. One would never know it based on the way Frank smiled at Donna at the table. Sure, his eyes still held a fair amount of sorrow, but he could still smile for her and it wasn’t fake. 

“Gerard?”

Gerard was drawn out of his thoughts by the sound of his name, but didn’t know which of the two people staring at him had spoken.

“What?” He asked, searching their faces from across the room. 

“Do you…want to pick some stuff with us?” Frank asked, still staring. He was starting to blush though and Frank turned away.

“Sure,” Gerard said, walking slowly toward the table with his nearly empty coffee cup in hand. He had to admit that most of the vegan meals his mother made for them were actually pretty good, but he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to see all the ingredients that went into the dishes. Tofu grossed him out, but when he couldn’t taste it in the food it didn’t bother him. He didn’t want to know where to expect it and end up ruining the meal… 

He stood behind Frank at the table and looked down at the pages of the book. His mother was making a list of ingredients she needed to buy and tofu was on the top of the list. Gerard stuck out his tongue, but Frank couldn’t see. 

“What have you picked out already?” Gerard asked, leaning forward as Frank flipped through the pages, speaking a small bit nervously about each meal he and Donna had decided on. “That one looks really good,” Gerard said, pointing at a picture on one of the pages Frank was thumbing through. The boy immediately turned back to the page Gerard had pointed out—and then looked to Donna. 

“Can we have this one too?” He asked her. She looked over the list of ingredients and the prep and started nodding slowly.

“You’ll have to help me with it. There’s a lot of prep that goes in.”

Frank looked over his shoulder at Gerard as if expecting to be attacked, and then turned back to Donna.

“If it’s too much—”

“It’s not too much, Frankie,” Donna said. “You’ll just have to help me in the kitchen if we want to have it done by dinner time.”

“I can help. I always help…”

“Then you know it’s not too much,” Donna said, moving her hand from his back to the side of his head, pulling him toward her so she could kiss his temple and then immediately let him go. Frank stared at her a moment as if he didn’t understand what had happened, but then turned back to the recipe book. 

After picking out one more meal, Donna completed her list and left to go shopping—promising to bring Frank home a surprise from the grocery store even though he hadn’t asked for it, the way parents might bribe a child to be good for the babysitter while they were gone. 

When she left, Frank stayed at the table for a moment until Gerard cleared his throat. Once the noise broke his concentration, Frank stood up from the table and put the recipe book away in the kitchen cabinet. After tucking it away, Frank made as if to go downstairs to his and Gerard’s bedroom.

“What are you doing?” Gerard asked. Frank immediately pulled back and looked at Gerard frightened even though he hadn’t even raised his voice. 

“I was going to take a nap…”

“You need to stay awake so you can sleep tonight.”

“But…I have therapy later. I really wanted to take a nap.”

“It’s not my fault you were up all night playing Mario.”

“I wasn’t up all night…”

“I went to sleep at three and you were still going at it,” Gerard said. “Come on. Let’s watch TV or something.”

“But I’m tried…”

Gerard sighed, unable to keep a look of disapproval off his face. Frank wouldn’t argue with anybody ever…except him. 

“Well, whose fault is that?” Gerard raised one of his eyebrows and crossed his arms over his chest. He half expected Frank to retaliate with an “If Donna were here she’d tell you to let me,” but instead Frank just frowned at him. 

“But I have therapy later,” he repeated. 

“Frank, you’re not sleeping all day. You can nap _after_ therapy.”

“But then it’s time for dinner…”

“So then you can go to bed after dinner,” Gerard said. 

“But I’m really tired,” Frank argued, daring to look mad. As soon as he saw the irritation flash in Frank’s eyes, Gerard began to wonder if he could work him up even more. If he did manage to get Frank to snap, though, it probably wouldn’t end well. He’d just start feeling guilty and probably try to hurt himself again.

“Stay awake,” Gerard said, turning his back to him and going to the living room to sit down. He heard Frank let out an undignified groan and then the boy was at his side, dropping down heavily on the couch in defeat. 

“I don’t want to be awake…”

“Go get Mario and play that. It kept you awake good enough last night.”

“I just wanted to get to world three…”

“Did you get to world three?”

“No.”

“You still haven’t beaten world two?”

_“No._ I’m not good at it. I keep dying…it’s stupid. It’s a stupid game.”

“It’s not a stupid game, you just don’t know all the tricks yet.”

“Mikey can beat world two…”

“Mikey’s been playing Mario Three since he was, like, two. If he doesn’t know how to beat world two by now then he’s brain damaged.”

“Well maybe I’m brain damaged, because I can’t do it…”

“I told you,” Gerard said, getting up from the couch, “you just don’t know the tricks.”

“Where are you going?” Frank asked, looking at him nervously—as if he thought he’d made Gerard angry and he was storming off. 

“To bring up my Nintendo so I can teach you these tricks.”

“You don’t have to,” Frank mumbled. “I’ll be quiet about it.”

“Shut up,” Gerard said, going into the kitchen opening the basement door. He hoped Frank wouldn’t find the dismissive phrase too harsh. He knew Frank was sensitive, but he wanted things to go back to a state of normalcy. Tiptoeing around Frank wouldn’t help him recover, and he needed to know that in the real world people were going to say things that were less than polite and that they weren’t meant as personal attacks he needed to beat himself up over. 

Still, Gerard hurried to get all the cables, the console, and the game together so Frank wouldn’t have any time to get himself into trouble while on his own. When he got back upstairs, Frank was lying across the couch trying to sleep—not even opening his eyes when Gerard started setting up the console. As soon as everything was hooked up and he finally got the game to work, Gerard went back over to the couch, staring down at Frank who was either succeeding at his goal of sleeping or doing a damn good job of acting.

Gerard stared at him a moment longer and then turned around and sat on his legs. As soon as Frank felt the weight on him, he jolted awake and started squirming and fussing—spitting out loud, frustrated noises like a cat. Gerard lifted himself up just enough for Frank to get his legs back, and then tossed him a controller. 

“You’re player two,” Gerard said. 

“I don’t want to play. I want to sleep.”

“We’re playing,” Gerard said. 

“But I suck at this game.”

“That’s why we’re playing—so you stop sucking. You need to get some self-confidence, Frankie.”

“I wish you people would quit calling me that. I’m not four,” Frank grumbled, turning the controller over in his hand so it was the right way up. 

“I’ll tell mom to stop calling you Frankie if you beat world two—then you don’t have to do it.”

“Deal,” Frank said, not missing a beat. 

For the first couple of levels, Frank’s confidence only seemed to get lower and lower even though Gerard taught him where all the special items and secret rooms were. Though he liked getting the tips, he still kept getting Luigi killed and that was taking its toll on the younger boy. 

Gerard, having played this game so many times since he’d been Frank’s age and younger, was able to beat the levels in under a minute. But when he saw how much it upset Frank to be so bad at the game in comparison, Gerard started letting himself make mistakes to end up dying. He didn’t make it obvious though, and when he would die he’d make sure to look angry about it so Frank wouldn’t dare to question him. 

It didn’t even take fifteen minutes to get to world two. 

Frank, now sitting cross-legged on the couch, scooted closer to him during world two, but Gerard tried not to think about it. He told himself Frank was just fidgeting, but once Frank’s knee touched Gerard’s he knew it was intentional. Every time Frank would lose, he would bounce his legs up and down in frustration and groan, rubbing his knee against Gerard’s but showing no other hostility. He wasn’t allowed to show anger, Gerard understood. If he ever angry or frustrated at his mother, he probably got the shit kicked out of him for it. The emotion wasn’t foreign to him and Gerard knew that—if the boy could answer a call he thought came from his mother and curse her out, he had to have had a lot of rage inside that he was hiding. 

Gerard wanted him to bring it out on his own before he proved himself to be a ticking time bomb. What better way was there to piss someone off than make them play stupid, frustrating video games? 

“Do you want me to beat this level for you?” Gerard asked after Frank had failed to defeat level three of world two twice.

“No,” Frank grumbled.

“You sure?”

“Yes…”

“Really? Because I can do it.”

“Fuck you,” Frank hissed.

Gerard laughed a little and leaned back on the couch. As soon as Frank had cussed at him, his breath caught in his throat and he started to look nervous. He kept his eyes on the screen however and went completely silent—obviously afraid of backlash.

The nerves seemed to help get him out of his head, though, because he was able to beat the level finally. 

“There you go—see. I told you, you’d get it.”

“Took me long enough,” Frank muttered. “And there’s like…five more levels and the fuckin’ castles.” He was sounding like he was about to cry and Gerard would’ve laughed at him if he weren’t so pitiful. 

“You can use the flute to skip this world if you want,” Gerard said.

“I want to beat it though…”

“But you’ve got the flute—”

“Because you told me where to find it.”

“So? It’s a hidden item. The only way you can find it is if someone tells you where it is.”

“But if I skip this world then I’ll never beat it…”

“But why have the flute if you’re not gonna use it. Two and eight are the hardest worlds. If you get to…six, I think, you can get inside a raccoon suit.”

“Fine,” Frank mumbled, caving and using the flute to change worlds. 

“Don’t pick fucking three. I fucking hate world three.”

“Why?”

“Because it sucks,” Gerard muttered. 

Frank looked at him for a moment, studying his face, and then picked world four. 

“I’m still tired,” he said, starting the first level of world four. 

“Get over it. You’re not taking a nap.”

Frank sighed irritably but kept playing—actually beating the level on his first try. It seemed to surprise him and he started smiling. 

( ) ( ) ( )

As soon as Frank got back from the therapists, Gerard could tell something went wrong. Frank burst into their bedroom where Gerard sat sketching at his desk, and threw himself down on his bed. He kept his composure—if that was what it could be called—for all of ten seconds before he started sobbing.

“Hey—What happened?” Gerard asked, setting aside his pencil and going over to Frank’s bed. He put a hand on the boy’s back, rubbing it in an attempt to soothe him, but Frank continued crying. “Are you okay?”

It was a dumb question. Obviously he wasn’t alright. His entire body was shaking and it reminded Gerard so much of how he’d found him the other day that it was frightening more than it was concerning. 

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” Frank cried.

“Nothing?” Gerard asked, trying not to sound cynical.

“I just want left alone.”

“Well, I can’t leave you alone,” Gerard said. There was no way in hell he was leaving Frank alone anywhere unless it was a padded cell and he was strapped down—completely incapable of causing himself harm. “What did you and the therapist talk about?”

The question just made Frank cry harder and Gerard cringed, sitting down on the bed. He had _never_ been good at comforting people, and now that making sure Frank was calmed down and okay was important, the added pressure just made Gerard feel that much worse about his lacking skill. 

“Frank, it’s okay. It’ll be okay—Why are you crying?”

“I don’t want to talk about it!” Frank snapped.

“Was it something the therapist said to you?” Gerard asked, pushing only because he wanted Frank to open up instead of turning his unhappiness inward—directing it at himself when no one was around. 

Frank moaned as if in pain and finally turned his face out of the pillow. He stared Gerard in the eye—looking straight through him—and then seemed to force himself to quit crying, putting on a façade of composure. 

“We were talking about Momma and…and that morning,” he said, blinking rapidly in an attempt to fight his tears only to have more of them start falling. “And Dr. Cole asked me why I didn’t just roll over or try to block her.”

“I can imagine that you did,” Gerard said, keeping his tone gentle so Frank might be inclined to say more. “Did she think you didn’t fight at all?”

“I _didn’t_ fight,” Frank wept. “Once she…she got my pants down I just gave up. She was going to keep hitting me so I didn’t even try.”

“There’s no way you just laid there, Frank. I don’t believe that. There’s _no way_ you were able to just lay there and take that kind of abuse. It’s not _physically_ possible.”

“I tried to close my legs but she’d just keep hitting and I wanted it to stop. I thought if I let her, she’d stop.”

“And your therapist said you were wrong for acting that way or…or what did she say?” Gerard asked. He knew the memory alone was probably enough to get Frank crying, but the therapist should’ve been able to calm him down before the session ended. 

“She asked why I didn’t try to get up from the bed…and I don’t know why. I didn’t even think about it. I wasn’t even smart enough to think about it…”

“It’s not that you weren’t _smart enough._ You were scared of her.”

“If I’d gotten up when she came in the room, I could’ve gotten away and this wouldn’t be happening,” Frank cried, closing his eyes tightly and nuzzling the pillow. 

Gerard didn’t know what to say. It seemed so obvious to him that Frank had been panicking in that moment, and once that first blow struck him where it hurt, there was _no way_ he was going to be able to stand up to run. First paralyzed by fear, then by pain. He didn’t stand a chance.

“She was just trying to figure out what else was going on in your mind,” Gerard said, rubbing Frank’s back. “She wasn’t calling you stupid…”

Frank said nothing, staring at Gerard’s desk across the room with red-rimmed eyes. He didn’t need a therapist to tell him he was stupid, Frank thought he was anyway and Gerard’s opinion wasn’t ever going to change. 

“Frank, she was just trying to figure out what you were thinking. She wasn’t trying to make you feel bad.”

“I’m just so fucking pathetic—I hate it,” Frank whimpered. “I didn’t even _try_ to get up. It’s my own fault for…for everything.”

“It’s your _mom’s_ fault. She’s the one who chose to hurt you. Frank, you didn’t have a say.”

“I didn’t even try to get up…”

“How were you supposed to get up when someone is over top of you, _beating_ you?” Gerard asked. He wanted Frank to feel better—he couldn’t let him lie there and knock himself down. It wouldn’t be long before he ended up breaking himself down to nothing and started drinking bleach again. 

“She wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t been…doing the bad thing,” he added in a soft whisper. Frank’s face turned bright red from shame—so mortified by what he’d said that even his crying stopped. 

“You didn’t deserve it,” Gerard said softly. “I told you that the last time.”

Frank shook his head and sniffed. After a moment he opened his mouth as if to speak, but a shrill ring of the doorbell upstairs cut him off. It didn’t take long after the door was opened for Frank to recognize the voice of his caseworker upstairs, talking to Donna.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Several people have asked, so I'mma clear this up (I forgot to say so last time): In this fic Gerard is around 22/23yrs old. Time for fluff!

_Chapter 32_

Frank had been back to school a week before it happened again. It wasn’t a complete second attempt, but it was still too close for comfort in Gerard’s mind. He’d come downstairs after work to find the boy standing by the washing machine, looking at the bottle of bleach—crying. Needless to say, the bleach was now kept upstairs—all the way upstairs—in Gerard’s parents’ room. 

Emergency therapy sessions didn’t help him. Talking to Gerard didn’t help him. Nothing seemed to help.

He’d fought with Jamia for two days after he went back to school, not accepting any of her apologies or answering any of her texts or phone calls. He insisted to anyone who asked that she was a bad influence—that being near her would just get him into trouble with Donna. When Gerard told him that was bullshit, Frank muttered that it wasn’t like he’d never have real friends anyway. 

Nothing Gerard did helped him. He hated that. 

The boy needed confidence. He needed some self-esteem and motivation. When it came to uncovering Frank’s interests, though, Gerard was at a loss. Frank seemed to imitate whatever he or Mikey showed interest in. If there was a movie on that Mikey enjoyed, Frank acted as though it was the best thing ever—feeding off of every reaction Mikey had. He listened to Gerard’s music, read his novels, thumbed through his comics. Whenever it came time to get Frank to pick out something of his own to like, there was no way to get a response from him. It was as tough he really didn’t have an opinion. Gerard had taken him to the bookstore over the weekend, but Frank just clung to Gerard’s side—literally bumping shoulders with him the entire time—and the only think he picked out for himself was a soy latte at the attached café. 

How were they supposed to get Frank to feel better if _nothing_ made him happy? The therapist prescribed medication, but Frank didn’t take it. He acted like he did for the first two days, but Gerard caught him spitting the little white capsules out into the sink and washing them down the drain the very instant Donna’s back was turned. Gerard didn’t ask him about it. He assumed Frank’s mother had said something in the past about how sinful and wrong medications were—the religious nutjob that she was. To her, depression and mental illness probably didn’t even exist even though she was obviously ill. 

“Still thinking about Frankie?” Ray asked, slapping Gerard on the back as he passed him. Gerard had been leaning over the counter at work, staring at the aisles. It was nearly eleven o’clock, but the store was slow. It typically was on Thursday mornings. 

“I don’t know what to do for him. I’ve tried everything I can think of… I’ve been teaching him to draw at night before bed, you know, trying to give him something to be confident in but there’s _nothing._ ”

“Bring him here.”

“What?”

“Bring him here. We need someone to help put out all that extra freight in the back.”

“Frank’s not old enough to work here. And the damn kid is so accident prone he’d probably break his fucking arm putting out the toilet paper…”

“You only have to be eighteen to work the register.”

“We’re trying to _keep_ Frank from drinking the chemicals. My mom keeps the laundry detergent in her bedroom now. The last thing we need is Frank putting out boxes of the stuff.”

“Look, all I’m saying is a part-time job could help take his mind off things. It’d give him something to be proud of.”

“He needs to rest, not to try balancing work and school.”

“I just thought I’d offer,” Ray said, shrugging and walking back out from behind the counter. 

Gerard sighed and leaned forward, resting his head against the counter.

“Any other ideas?” Gerard asked.

“I don’t know. What does he like?”

“He copies me and Mikey—he likes whatever we do.”

“So take him to the movies or something, like a boys night out. You could take him and Mikey out for some pizza—”

“That works for a night, but the next day he’s going to go back to the way he was. He hardly even talks to Jamia anymore and that was his best friend besides Mikey. She used to come over _all_ the time. She brought her dog even.”

“Maybe he just needs a push. You could invite her over.”

Gerard groaned and straightened himself back up. He didn’t see how that would help anything at all. It might show Frank that everyone was okay with Jamia and he didn’t need to cut ties with her for the sake of staying out of trouble, but that wouldn’t keep him alive. 

“I need something…to make him feel better. The kid’s got so many problems, you know? He doesn’t keep…” Gerard couldn’t even bring himself to say it. “It’s not because he’s bored or sad. He feels empty. He feels like he doesn’t have anyone—”

“Like he doesn’t have anything to live for,” Ray said. “Yeah. That’s hard for a kid his age. His life hasn’t even started yet—he’s still in high school.”

“It’s too bad I can’t rent him a boyfriend. Give him someone to cuddle up to and…” Gerard froze—an idea striking him.

“I didn’t know Frankie liked boys… But I guess that would just make it even harder. Poor kid can’t get a break.” Ray paused to look back at him. “You okay?”

“I need to go,” Gerard said, straightening up the rest of the way and turning to the time clock. Within a matter of seconds he’d punched in his numbers, clocked out, and left—barely remembering to grab his winter coat. 

( ) ( ) ( )

His ears were ringing from the loud, shrill barking of all the dogs even before the woman let him back into the damp kennel—the foul-smelling, echoing, prison for dogs. It was a depressing place. A cold place.

Gerard held his coat a little tighter around himself as he walked through the rows of cages. The whole time he’d been driving to the animal shelter the only thought in his head was that his mother was going to murder him for what he was about to do—but now, in the presences of all the sad, dejected dogs—he was reminded of Frank and why he was doing this.

What did Frank want more than anything else? Love. Unconditional, too-close-for-comfort, in-your-face, sloppy love. Whenever Jamia came over and brought her pug dog, Frank absolutely glowed with happiness. If he had a dog of his own, maybe it would take his mind off of his loneliness…

When he’d lived with his mother, all of the household responsibilities—aside from food, of course—were left to Frank. He wouldn’t have any trouble taking care of the dog on his own—feeding it, walking it, bathing it… Finances were getting a little strained, but Gerard had enough to shell out an extra forty bucks a month for dog food. 

Gerard walked through the stacks of small cages, looking in at the shrilly yapping puppies and small dogs. There were several pugs that looked friendly, but Gerard was hesitant to buy the same breed Jamia had in fear the two would have another falling out and the dog would just serve as a reminder of her. 

He honestly had no clue what he was looking for—but he made a point to avoid the puppies. If he got something that would chew and destroy and pee on everything in the house, his mother would murder him and it would break Frank’s heart if his new pet was stolen from him. 

After he passed the cages of small dogs, Gerard started walking through the aisles of larger cages. Most of the dogs leapt at the chain link cages, barking and yapping—sometimes biting at the wires in their excitement. 

There were mutts of all kinds—shepherds, hounds, long-haired, short-haired… He felt bad for them. Some were just so happy to see other people, some looked vicious and had red tags on the doors warning against getting too close, none of them realizing that their lives were slowly creeping toward termination.

Gerard felt guilty just looking at them. 

He could only take one, but it was hard to tell what dog would fit _Frank_ best. Would he want a hyperactive dog or would that overwhelm him? Would he be okay with an older dog instead of a puppy? What if this whole thing was stupid? After all, Frank almost hyperventilated over a cellphone. How would he respond to a dog? 

Gerard sighed and paused at the end of one of the aisles, next to an empty cage. He needed to think about this logically. He needed an older dog—housebroken, friendly, not yappy… But it would be so hard to tell the temperament of one of these dogs based on how it acted in _this_ hell. 

All of a sudden Gerard felt something cold press against his hand and he flinched, turning around to face the kennel door he’d been leaning against. A black and white spotted dog stared up at him—drooping ears and drooping eyes—and worked its jaw nervously. Its tail twitched back and forth a little, but when Gerard kneeled down in front of the cage it became a slow, gentle wag and the dog started licking his hand as he pressed it between the wires of the cage.

“Hey—Hi, buddy,” Gerard said, keeping his tone gentle as the dog sniffed and licked at his fingers. Its tail kept wagging slowly, not at all rivaling the speeds some of the other dogs’ moved. 

Gerard looked up at the tag on the cage. 

“Hi, My name is LUCY. I am 4—6 YEARS OLD. My owners MOVED and could not keep me. I don’t like CATS but other DOGS and KIDS are OK!” 

“Moved away, huh?” Gerard asked, smiling at the dog which moved closer to the cage door and sat down. It fit its nose as far between the wires as it could and then lifted a paw to the door as well, as if offering to shake Gerard’s hand. 

It was a cute dog—short-haired but kind of fluffy, scruffy, with a curled and poofy tail. It had a likeness to a border collie, but not quite the same. Medium height, older but not too old, probably housetrained. 

“You wait here—I’ll be right back,” Gerard said, standing up. As soon as he was on his feet, the dog’s tail quit wagging and it returned slowly to the back of its cage as if in resignation. Gerard could practically hear it saying, “today’s not my day, huh? Maybe next time.”

 

Even though he was the only person in the shelter besides the employees, Gerard hurried to the front counter with a sense of urgency. 

“Did you find one you like?” The girl at the counter asked, smiling at him.

“Yeah, it’s—”

“Would you like me to get a leash so you can walk him? Or we have some play rooms.”

“Inside would probably be better. It’s cold out,” Gerard said, flashing a smile as the girl grabbed a leash from behind the counter. He showed her to the dog, Lucy, and couldn’t ignore the nearly elated look on the girl’s face as she opened the cage and hooked the dog up on the lead. 

She guided Gerard to one of the playrooms, a small space with an array of toys tossed all over the place. As soon as the girl left, Gerard sat down on the floor and let go of the leash. Lucy sniffed every corner of the room and then came back over to sit beside Gerard on the floor. The animal sighed and then laid down slowly, its head on its paws. 

Gerard leaned over and grabbed a tennis ball from the pile of toys. When he rolled it past Lucy’s face, the dog picked up its head and then got to its feet to retrieve the ball. It dropped it on the floor in front of Gerard, wagging its tail just a little, and then started working its mouth again, almost looking as though it were trying to nervously bite its lip the way a human might. He tossed the ball again and Lucy got up to go retrieve it. 

She didn’t have much excitement in her movements, but there was light in her eyes—like she was happy to have the attention but not willing to let it go to her head in fear of disappointment. 

After dropping the ball in front of Gerard again, Lucy lifted a paw and Gerard accepted it, shaking hands and sealing the deal. 

( ) ( ) ( )

“What the hell is that?” Donna spat as soon as Gerard walked through the front door. He grinned at her, expecting that reaction as he let Lucy—or whoever she would become—enter the home. 

“It’s a dog.”

“We don’t have pets—we don’t have _room_ for pets,” his mother said bitterly.

“It’s for Frank—where is he?”

“In his room. Taking a nap.”

“A nap? Already?” Gerard asked. It wasn’t even four o’clock yet and Frank couldn’t have gotten home before three o’clock.

“Yes. Now you take that animal back where it came from before he sees it. And I _mean_ it.” She did, too. He could tell by the ferocious look in her eyes.

“Ma, he needs something to get him out of this—”

“And a dog isn’t going to do it. We can’t _afford_ a dog. I don’t _want_ a dog. The answer is no.”

“Well I already bought her, so too bad.”

“Gerard!”

“Frank needs this. It’ll give him something to focus on instead of being sad all the time.”

“No! Get that thing out of here before he wakes up.”

“I already bought everything for her. She’s spayed, she’s housetrained—”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” Donna hissed, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Think about it—all he wants is love. A dog can love him, won’t get mad at him, doesn’t judge him. It’s good for him.”

“Gerard—”

“Look, you know how bad he is right now. Hiding the bleach isn’t going to stop him. What _might_ keep him going is having something to take care of. If he kills himself, then Lucy goes back to the shelter. Then she gets put down and he hasn’t killed himself, he’s killed his pet.”

“Right—guilt the poor boy to keep him in line,” his mother said, scowling at him.

“It’s worth a try. He’s gonna love it.”

“I bet you twenty dollars he pukes all over the place the minute he sees it.”

“He’s not going to get sick.”

“Twenty bucks says he is and _you’re_ cleaning it up,” she said, looking down at the dog. 

“Fine, whatever,” Gerard said, knowing that was as much approval as he was going to get from Donna.

He led the dog downstairs to the dark basement where Frank was sleep, curled into a ball on his side. 

“Come here,” Gerard whispered, guiding the dog over to the edge of the bed and patting it gently. The dog looked at him nervously and then leapt onto the bed, sniffing the blankets before lying down.

Frank groaned when the bed shifted and Gerard scurried to his own side of the room, clipping on the light as he went. It was hard to keep the grin off his face as he listened to Frank moan sleepily. 

His first thought was to sit at his desk and pretend to be reading, but he couldn’t miss the chance to see Frank’s face when the boy finally woke up and looked down at the ball of warmth hogging the foot of his bed. So Gerard sat on his own bed with his sketch pad and pretended to be doodling when Frank’s eyes finally opened and the boy scowled over at him.

“I was sleeping,” Frank groaned. “Why did you turn the light on?”

“You sleep too much,” Gerard said, trying so hard to fight the grin on his face.

Any second. _Any second._

“I’m _tired,_ ” Frank moaned, rolling over onto his back and then—yes! He looked confused and then sat up, stammering and shoving off his blankets. He kept trying to say “what” but could only get out the w sound over and over as his breathing pick up.

The dog lifted its head, holding it at an angle as it looked at Frank in confusion. Frank took his eyes off the dog long enough to look at Gerard in shock, but when Lucy stood up, he looked back at her and started trembling. 

“I-is he m-mine?” Frank asked, opening his arms for the dog that crept over to him, reaching out with its nose to sniff his hand before walking up to him and sniffing his face. 

“Do you like her?”

“Is she really mine?” Frank asked, blinking rapidly as he started to cry. 

“Do you like her?” Gerard asked again. 

Frank started sobbing and though Lucy flinched at first, she leaned forward and started licking Frank’s cheek. He stroked her head with one hand and then started ruffling the fur of her neck as she crept closer, wagging her tail and licking his face to clean it of tears. 

“I can keep her?” Frank asked, moving to hug the dog only to have her pull away—but only for a moment.

“Yeah. I thought you could use the company.”

Frank kept sobbing, but he was smiling the whole time—sometimes able to laugh in between shaky breaths. He kept asking over and over if she was his, if he were really allowed to keep her. Gerard kept telling him yes, which just made him more excited—making the dog more excited. Finally, its tail started wagging as fast as the other dogs in the shelter.

“Does she have a name?” Frank asked, turning to look at Gerard and grinning.

“I don’t know—have you picked one?”

“I-I don’t know—does she have one?” Frank asked, still trembling as her petted and held the dog.

“The shelter called her Lucy,” Gerard said.

“She doesn’t look like a Lucy,” Frank said, smiling at the dog and pursing his lips so it could kiss him on the mouth. Gerard cringed a little in disgust but couldn’t help but keep smiling. “You don’t look like a Lucy,” he repeated. “No you don’t. You look like a…Zoe. Can I call her Zoe?”

“Call her whatever you want, Frank. She’s your dog.”

Frank let out a loud cry of delight, making the dog—Zoe—bark and reach up with her paw to pat him on the shoulder. 

“Does Donna know?” He asked.

“Yeah, Mom knows.”

“Has she seen her?”

“Yeah, but you should go tell her you’re happy so she doesn’t…get the wrong idea,” Gerard said, stopping before he let himself say ‘doesn’t send her back.’ If Frank thought Donna wanted to get rid of his dog he would never bond with it the way Gerard felt he needed.

“Okay,” Frank said, jumping up from the bed and ruffling Joey’s fur when the dog looked at him confused. He took hold of her leash and started running upstairs, Zoe following him happily. Frank couldn’t even wait until he’d reach the kitchen before he started calling for Donna. “Mom! Mom, did you see my dog Gerard bought me? He bought me a dog!”

Gerard’s eyebrow shot up when he heard how Frank had addressed Donna. He listened for his mother’s reaction, but when he couldn’t hear anything other than Frank’s excited blabbering. Gerard got up from the bed and hurried upstairs into the kitchen where Frank was holding tight to Donna who patted his shoulder. 

Mikey stood in the doorway of the kitchen, no doubt drawn out of his room by the loud voices, and looked up when he saw Gerard. 

“When did we get a dog?” He asked.

“Gerard bought him for me!” Frank said, letting go of Donna in order to sink down to the floor beside the dog. “I named her Zoe.”

“We can really keep her?” Mikey asked, looking to Donna who shrugged, unable to say no with Frank finally acting happy. “That’s awesome! Does she have any toys?” Mikey asked, going over to sit on the floor beside Frank in order to fluff Zoe’s coat. 

“I have some in the car,” Gerard said.

“Go get them,” Mikey said, not taking his eyes off the dog that sniffed at him and wagged her tail. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank still couldn’t believe it was real, even when it was time for him to go to bed and Zoe was sitting next to him. He fluffed the scruffy fur of her neck and scratched behind her ears, listening to the dog panting happily. Zoe laid down on the bed before Frank did, rolling onto her back so Frank could rub her belly. 

Donna had him give the dog a bath after dinner—after Don came home from work and seemed just as excited as Frank and Mikey to have a dog in the house. The only person in the home who didn’t seem to want a dog was Donna, but Frank was sure that if he could prove himself responsible and take care of Zoe on his own then Donna would come around. 

“You need to go to bed,” Gerard mumbled from across the room. He was sitting up at his desk, working under the dim light of the desk lamp. 

“I can’t sleep,” Frank said, content to keep rubbing Zoe’s belly while the dog wagged her tail. 

“I’ll put her upstairs if you don’t lay down,” Gerard said, his tone warning although Frank knew he’d never follow through on the threat. 

“I’m just petting her.”

“You need to go to bed or you won’t get up for school in the morning.”

“I want to stay home with Zoe.”

“That’s not why I bought you the dog.”

“I wish she could come to school with me.”

“She’ll be fine here with Mom. You need to get some sleep.” Gerard turned around and fixed Frank with a disapproving stare, but Frank just smiled at him. 

He didn’t know why Gerard had gotten Zoe for him, but he would never, ever forget the kindness. Zoe would be his new best friend—he’d take her everywhere he could. When the weather got better, Frank could already imagine taking her with him to the dog park and playing fetch. Maybe he could even go there with Jamia and her pug. Maybe the two dogs could be friends… 

“Frank, I mean it. Go to bed.”

“Fine,” Frank mumbled, leaning down to kiss Zoe on the nose before getting under the blankets. As he shifted around to get comfortable, Zoe stood back up at the foot of the bed, waiting until Frank stopped moving to resituate herself. Frank sighed—then Zoe sighed as if copying him—and stared at Gerard’s turned back. “Gerard?”

“What?”

“Thank you,” Frank whispered. He couldn’t remember saying it earlier even though he’d been more than grateful for the gift the very instant he laid eyes on it. 

“You’re welcome. I’m just glad you like her,” Gerard said, not even turning around. His tone dismissive.

“I love her,” Frank said, trying to get Gerard to say more. He didn’t want to go to sleep—he wasn’t tired and the silence made him anxious.

“Good.”

“Gerard?”

“Frank, I _mean_ it. You need to go to bed. If you’re tired tomorrow, Mom’s gonna blame me.”

“I love you,” Frank blurted out, not sure how it could possibly get Gerard to say more to him but feeling there was no better time to get it off his chest. Gerard, more than anyone else, listened to him and supported him. Gerard wasn’t just his “older brother” who bought him a dog and a cellphone—all the expensive gifts Don and Donna weren’t reckless enough to try to afford. He was a friend. A good friend. 

“I know. I love you too. Get some sleep.” 

Frank sighed heavily and shifted around under the blankets, feeling a bit embarrassed and slighted by how dismissively Gerard spoke. He was probably acting like a kid again… It seemed that every time he tried to express what he felt, he ended up making himself look immature and childish. Maybe adults just weren’t supposed to say how they feel about things. 

“Frank?”

Yeah, Frank could see how immature it was to feel his stomach flutter just because someone spoke his name in a kind tone of voice. 

“I can’t fall asleep that fast,” Frank mumbled.

“No, I know,” Gerard said. He turned around in his chair and looked at Frank, though the shadows cast by his lamp hid his face. “I just want you to know that…I’m here for you. Like, if Mom says something about Zoe or anything that upsets you… I’m here. You don’t have to—you don’t have to keep it to yourself. You can talk to me.”

“I know,” Frank said, trying to keep his answer brief so Gerard wouldn’t be able to pick up on the butterflies Frank felt in his stomach. “Do you really think Donna doesn’t like her?” Frank asked, unable to keep the nagging doubt out of his mind. He picked up on it right away that Donna didn’t care for the dog, but he was hopeful she would come around someday. 

“Mom’s more of a cat person, but she won’t make you get rid of Zoe. I promise.”

“Don likes Zoe.”

“Yeah—Dad’s been trying to get a dog for like…shit, fifteen years. Since I was a kid anyway… But, yeah, get some sleep. Text me back tomorrow. It freaks me out when you don’t answer me.”

“I’m in school,” Frank said. “If I text in class I’ll get detention.”

“Text me after. Go to sleep.”

Frank was thankful for the shadows because they hid how much he was smiling. He usually held off from texting Gerard back during the day, either because he didn’t want to lie and say he was feeling alright when Gerard repeatedly texted “how r u” to him, or because he felt Gerard didn’t really care to know. Frank was certain he was blushing as he nestled down in his bed. Everything was far from perfect, but right now they felt okay.


	33. Chapter 33

_Chapter 33_

Frank and his dog were inseparable. The more time he spent with her, the more he loved her and the more she loved him. In a matter of days he got the laidback dog to do tricks for treats and, of course, snuck her table scraps whenever he could. If he ever had a bad day at school or a bad session with his therapist, all he seemed to need was Zoe. 

He would sit in his bed and Zoe would jump up to sit with him, licking the tears off his face until he laughed and pawing at his shoulder if he couldn’t. She was such a gentle dog—she wasn’t pushy, didn’t bite, hardly barked. Whenever Frank was sad, she would just sit with him and cuddle, understanding how much he needed to hold her and cry into her coat. 

She was patient. She was Frank’s best friend in the whole world, and for her Frank would always be thankful to Gerard. He didn’t know how Gerard understood him so well, or how he’d realized the hole in Frank’s chest could be patched with white fur a droopy ears, but he was grateful. All the dark days were so much easier to face with Zoe at his side, and whenever his mood got too heavy Frank knew he had to stay alive—even if it was just for her.

Donna said if anything happened to him, Zoe would go back to the shelter. He didn’t completely believe her, but he didn’t want to risk sending his best friend back to concrete kennel hell. She took such good care of him, and Frank was going to see to it that she had a good home for the rest of her life. She deserved that much. 

As it was, Frank was lying on his stomach in bed, working on homework with Zoe at his feet. She had her head resting on his calf like a pillow, slowly soaking his jeans with drool as she slept. Whenever Frank would sigh too heavily, Zoe would wake up and lift her head to check in on him—making sure he was okay and that discouragement with algebra didn’t have him crying again. 

“Hey.”

Frank turned to look over his shoulder at the basement stairs, and Zoe lifted her head to look as well. Gerard was home from work and was stripping off his winter coat as he stepped down the basement stairs.

“Hey,” Frank answered. “How was work?”

“Didn’t get kicked in the balls for once,” Gerard said, pointing to a dark bruise on his cheek.

“Punched?” Frank asked.

“Yeah. Fucker really nailed me,” Gerard said, walking over to Frank’s bed and petting Zoe.

“You didn’t tell me about it,” Frank said, grabbing his cellphone from his bedside table and checking it.

“Didn’t get the chance. I called the cops on the motherfucker and watched him get taken away. By that point it was time to leave.”

“You get hurt too much at work,” Frank mumbled, looking back down at his textbook so Gerard wouldn’t see the look that _had_ to be on his face. Frank felt way too irritable for it to not be showing. It made him mad that Gerard got punched and kicked so often. He wished Gerard would just quit the Spend N Save and start working someplace safer. Like an office…

“I get hurt worse when they make me help them with freight. I dropped a whole case of dish soap on my foot last night.”

“They still don’t have anyone to do freight?”

“No. Ray doesn’t want to hire another cashier.”

“I thought he already hired someone.”

“He did, but he quit after two days.”

“Wow. Cashiering for Spend N Save must suck.”

“It does if you think you’re going to get a bunch of free shit and try to steal in front of me.”

“I’d be happy just to have a job… I don’t get why someone would want to steal from where they work,” Frank said. Donna and her family were nice, but Frank could tell that having him around had their finances strained. If he could get a job, he could pay for his own food and Zoe’s. Though, to be completely honest, he’d probably spend his entire paycheck on toys and treats for his baby girl. 

“Yeah, Ray keeps trying to get me to hire you,” Gerard said absently. 

“Really? I thought you had to be eighteen to work there,” Frank said, spirits lifting a little. Maybe he could get a job after all. It would be so cool to work with Gerard—maybe they could even have similar shifts and he wouldn’t have to bother Don or Donna for a ride, he could just carpool with Gerard. 

“Not to work freight, but… Don’t worry about it.”

“Do you not want me to work there?” Frank asked. 

“I don’t want you working freight and getting yourself hurt.”

“But Ray really wants me to work there?”

“Frank?” Gerard fixed him with one of those nearly maternal, protective stares that he had to have learned from Donna.

“What?” Frank groaned, looking back down at his textbook. He already knew what Gerard was going to say: ‘don’t even think about it.’

“You don’t need a job. You’ve got enough going on.”

“But a job would help keep my mind off of…things.”

“Frank, a job would just stress you out. You don’t need any more stress—you need rest.”

Frank sighed and let it go. When Gerard made up his mind about something, he very seldom changed it and Frank didn’t want the man angry with him. He liked Gerard too much to be able to handle having Gerard mad at him.

Sighing, Frank sat up and reached down to play with Zoe’s coat. His dog began licking at his hands and Frank smiled at her. She really was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

“Ugh, I need a shower…” Gerard groaned as he stripped off his work polo. Frank tried not to stare at him, but it was so hard not to look. It was unfair how much he liked and admired Gerard, and having him in such close quarters made it all worse. 

“So go shower,” Frank mumbled, looking back down at Zoe—always so afraid Gerard would catch him looking. 

Gerard grumbled and hesitated a while longer but eventually, without saying anything, collected a pair of pajamas and went upstairs to shower. Frank watched him go—still shirtless—examining the dip of his spine as it neared his hips, the way his skin bulges just a little bit over the waistband of his too-tight jeans. 

Then the bad thing started happening.

Frank hissed the moment he noticed how his body was reacting and he sank his teeth into his bottom lip. It was far from being the first time this had happened, but he never got used to the feeling. Before, back with Momma, he would just wait until bed or his shower to cave to his sinful, sick desires. Now he worked harder to fight it, sometimes even pinching or scratching himself just to make the bad thing stop. 

He was sinful, he was _bad_ to have these feelings. 

When the self-loathing wasn’t enough to get his problem to go away, Frank shook his head and nudged Zoe until she jumped off his bed. For a while she sat on the floor staring at him, but a noise upstairs caught her interest and she ran away—leaving Frank to himself. 

He fell over onto his side and curled up, one hand pressed shamefully between his legs—giving pressure and just a small bit of friction to rub against. Frank let out a shaking breath and whimpered, rubbing the outline of his length with the tips of his fingers. It disgusted him how such a small touch could make him desperate for more. Passing a quick glance over to the basement stairs—knowing no one was going to come down to check on him for at least twenty minutes while Gerard was in the shower—Frank quickly unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans.

_Sinful,_ he thought as he carefully wrapped his hand around his erection. _Sick. Wrong._ Still, even with the hateful words in his mind, it felt good when he began to move his hand. 

Frank forced himself to lower his jeans and underwear and looked down at himself. A sickening sight—hideous, ugly and awful—but still not enough to make the gratifying feeling go away. There were parts he couldn’t feel, places where his skin was badly discolored and marred. Touching them felt like nothing at all, and then there were places that even the smallest of touches could make his spine arch. It didn’t feel anything like it used to before the attack, but it was enough to glean pleasure. 

He wished beyond anything that he had _no_ feeling left down there. Then he would never be sinful or bad again—he wouldn’t have a need for sick thoughts. If his mother had just succeeded at what she’d been trying to do, he wouldn’t have to hate himself. 

He wouldn’t dare to think about Gerard—his older _foster brother_ —kissing him on the mouth and the throat, stroking him while whispering words of praise. He wouldn’t hear Gerard telling him he was good instead of bad, beautiful instead of hideous…

Frank whimpered and closed his eyes tightly, giving in to the blissful sin. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard thought it odd that Zoe was sleeping on the couch beside Donna instead of in Frank’s bed, but didn’t give it a second thought as he headed toward the basement door, toweling dry his hair. He moved slow, tried and sore from work, and trying hard not to stumble on the steps as he kept working the towel through his hair. 

He probably would’ve kept going, too, and walked right into the mess had he not stopped fluffing his hair halfway down the stairs. A quiet sound reached his ears—a voice, Gerard recognized at first, Frank’s voice. It was a whimper, a tiny, flighty whimper.

Gerard froze and turned his head, able to see the bottom half of Frank’s bed—the rest obscured by the wall of the basement stairwell—but that revealed enough. Frank had his jeans shoved down around his knees, his hand moving quickly between his legs. 

Shock kept him frozen, staring—unable to even blink. He ended up watching as the boy finished—seeing the white liquid spurt into his hand and his stomach. He heard Frank’s deep moan, shaky and almost pained, then the boy started whimpering and rolled onto his side, curling into a ball.

Slowly, Gerard backed up, praying the soft squeaking of the steps wouldn’t draw any attention. He managed to get back upstairs without hearing Frank gasp or scream or give any indication that he knew he’d been caught, and went into the living room—eyes still wide. 

“What’s wrong with you?” His mother asked, glancing up from her book as he sat down in the chair opposite her.

At first, he just shook his head—not wanting to admit what he’d seen and not wanting to say anything that might embarrass Frank. 

“Gerard—what?” His mother pressed.

“Nothing,” Gerard said, shaking his head a little faster. “Just…walked in on something,” he added when he saw his mother was staring to look frightened. 

“Walked in on something?—Oh! Oh.” His mother started chuckling, her face turning a little red. “Well, at least we know it still works.”

Gerard huffed and rubbed at his face, trying to get the image to stop playing over and over in his head—the movements of Frank’s hand, the climax the moan he let out.

“At least we know he didn’t want the _dog_ in his room,” Gerard stammered out, just to break the silence. 

“Mm…” His mother said, more interested in the book she was reading than whatever Frank was up to. “Just give him a couples minutes. Cough really loud a few times before going downstairs so he knows you’re coming.” 

“God, it would’ve been so bad if he’d seen me.”

“Yes. I can imagine it would,” his mother said dismissively, implying with her tone that she didn’t want to hear any more.

Gerard sat with her in silence for about ten minutes before he dared to go back downstairs. By that time, Frank was dressed in his pajamas and curled up in bed ready for sleep.

“Do you want me to…get Zoe?” Gerard asked, not sure how to behave so that he wouldn’t tip Frank off that he’d seen anything. 

“No,” Frank said. He sounded like he was crying and Gerard let out a heavy sigh.

“Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine.” Frank sniffed and then let out a shaky breath. Definitely crying. 

Gerard took the initiative to whistle for Zoe and in a matter of seconds the dog was back downstairs and awaiting Frank’s permission to jump onto his bed. Frank ignored her. Gerard couldn’t believe he was that _upset._ He could understand there would be trauma after what his mother had done, but for Frank to break down crying and deny himself even the comfort of his truest companion, there had to be more going on. 

“Frank, why are you so upset?”

“I’m not.”

_“Frank.”_

Gerard didn’t particularly want to hear about the boy’s guilt over his sin—over doing “the bad thing”—but he’d much rather sit through an awkward conversation than come downstairs and find the kid dead. 

“I’m fine,” Frank whimpered. Knowing he wasn’t, Zoe jumped onto the bed and crawled up Frank’s body, sticking her nose in his face and licking his cheeks until Frank rolled onto his back and hugged her. 

The dog had definitely been a good idea.

Gerard turned off the light and went over to his own bed, not exactly ready to go to bed but wanting Frank to fall asleep before his mind got the best of him. 

“Gerard?” Frank asked, his voice small and meek.

“Hm?” Gerard hummed as he climbed into bed and squirmed around, trying to get comfortable as he felt the boy’s eyes on him. 

“Do you think…anyone will like me?”

“Like you?” Gerard asked, trying to keep his tone even. 

“I mean…like a girlfriend—or anyone.”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t they?”

Frank was silent, the only sound in the room besides his sniffling was the jingling of Zoe’s collar as Frank petted her. 

“There’s nothing _wrong_ with you, Frank.”

“I just don’t… I don’t want to be alone,” Frank cried.

“You’re not going to be alone. Trust me. You’ll find somebody.” He couldn’t believe they were having this conversation after what he’d just seen. All he wanted was to get the images out of his head, but having Frank whimper about his loneliness after getting himself off made that impossible. 

“I don’t think I’m good enough for anybody,” Frank cried. He sounded desperate and Gerard felt if Frank was spilling this all out now, it meant he was on edge again—and the only thing keeping him from falling was Zoe. 

“Why?” Gerard asked, wanting Frank to talk himself through it—talk it out and realize how foolish he sounded. He was too young to believe that he would never have anyone. 

“Because.”

“Frank…”

“Because I’m ugly…and I’m stupid. And I’m not good for anything.” Frank started sobbing and Gerard let out a heavy sigh. His mother had ruined him. Completely ruined him. It would be years upon years if _ever_ before Frank could look at himself and not feel disgusted. She had broken him and scarred him in places he couldn’t show or explain away. If he ever did get a partner or a girlfriend, he would have to tell what his mother had done to him—otherwise his partner would probably just think he was diseased. 

“You’re not ugly and you’re not stupid. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“You don’t know,” Frank mumbled. 

“Frank, I promise that you _will_ find someone, and when you do they’re not gonna scare if you’ve got…scars,” Gerard said, hoping Frank wouldn’t realize Gerard had seen him—that Gerard had been the one who’d changed him into his pajamas the night after the party. 

“They’re worse than scars—I’m ugly.”

“You need to talk to your therapist about this, Frank. I can’t help you.”

“I’m not telling _her!_ ” Frank sobbed. “She would make fun of me!”

“Your therapist won’t make _fun_ of you.”

“Yes she will! And it’s _stupid_ to whine about—I’m pathetic.”

“No you’re not. Frank, please, stop. You’re normal—you’re completely normal. I know you’ve got some things wrong down there and you’re self-conscious about it—and I know your mom’s made you think it’s bad for you to even _think_ about what you’re…supposed to do with what’s down there…” Gerard couldn’t believe the roundabout way he had to explain things to Frank, but he was desperate to keep him from freaking out any worse than he already was. He didn’t even want to know what would happen if he started throwing out words like ‘dick’ or, heaven forbid, ‘sex.’ “But it’s normal, Frank. You’re normal for wanting those things. It’s not bad. You’re _not_ bad. When you find the _right person_ they’re not gonna care if you have scars. I promise. That’ll be the least important thing to them.”

“Do you really believe that?” Frank asked after a long pause.

“Yes. I wouldn’t ever…dump somebody just because they had a scar. That’s stupid.”

“I really just don’t want to be all by myself,” Frank whispered. 

“There are worse things than being alone. I haven’t had a boyfriend in over a year and I’m fine.”

“I don’t know why…” Frank mumbled, almost incomprehensibly as he sniffed. 

“What?”

“I said I don’t know why.”

“Why, what?”

“Why you’re single. You’re so nice.” He mumbled something else but Gerard couldn’t catch it. 

“Because I work all the time. And I’m only nice to you,” Gerard said, trying to find a way to make light of it so the boy wouldn’t get the wrong idea. Gerard was far from being the perfect boyfriend. He was depressed all the time and judgmental—not to mention jealous. There were a lot of reasons he was single, and Frank didn’t need to be sticking his nose in it to be honest. 

“Gerard?”

“You need to sleep, Frank. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Whatever Frank had been intending to say, he held back and made to go to sleep. Gerard was awake for another forty minutes wondering what the hell he’d meant to say.


	34. Chapter 34

_Chapter 34_

Frank didn’t want to do this. He didn’t understand why he had to. But no matter how many times he told them he didn’t want to—that he wouldn’t—they said he had no choice. Apparently telling the doctors and the caseworkers wasn’t enough. No, he had to tell an entire courtroom full of people what his mother had done. He had to sit and tell people how _disgusting_ he’d been, confess what he’d done to make his mother so angry. Yes, he understood they would pity him, but deep down they would all know that he was sinful and sick. They would pity him because he was a child in their eyes, but they would all know he’d gotten what he deserved. 

And what was even worse—his mother would be there to hear him insult her and accuse her. He would betray her when he promised so many times he would never, ever tell anyone anything. If she hadn’t done it—if she hadn’t made him hurt so much—he never would’ve had to, but she wouldn’t see it that way. She would hate him more than she already did, and Frank just couldn’t _handle that._

“I don’t want to do this,” Frank whispered to the caseworker. They were standing outside the courtroom waiting for their time to enter. Donna was with him, rubbing his shoulders constantly in an attempt to keep him calm, but it didn’t soothe him. 

“I know, Frank, but after this you won’t have to talk about it anymore if you don’t want to,” the caseworker said, not at all understanding how much her lack of empathy hurt him.

“This is ridiculous,” Donna hissed. “I don’t see why he needs to be here. Isn’t there enough evidence?”

“She has the right to face her accuser…and the defense has questions for him to,” the caseworker muttered, not at all sounding pleased with the idea. Frank’s heart started beating even harder at the idea. What could the _defense_ want with him? What did his _mother_ want to know?

“What, is _he_ on trial now?”

“No, but they’re trying to prove that she was out of her mind when she attacked him.”

“I don’t want to do this,” Frank interjected, feeling shame overwhelm him as he began to tear up. He didn’t want to cry. He didn’t want to look so weak before anything was even said. 

“Don’t make him do this,” Donna said, pulling Frank into a tight hug. He felt like a small child as he hugged her in return, wishing beyond belief that there was a way out of this. “It’s hurting him.”

“I’m sorry. We need him to testify.”

“He’s not _well,_ ” Donna insisted, hugging Frank tighter as though it would somehow prevent him from hearing. “If you make him do this… What if he gets hurt?”

“That’s what the therapists are for,” the caseworker said, making Donna hiss and shake her head. “I’m sorry. If he were _younger,_ or if…if had been _sexual_ abuse, we wouldn’t ask. But he’s seventeen, and it was an assault. He needs to testify.”

Frank pressed his face into Donna’s neck and cried, caving as she stroked his hair. He felt trapped and desperate, and if his legs weren’t shaking so hard he would’ve tried to run away just so he could escape. When it finally came time to walk into the court room, Donna had to help support him. The wooden bench offered him no comfort, and even though there weren’t many witnesses to the case, there was still a jury and attorneys, the legal staff… Then she came in. 

Momma. 

It felt as if his heart stopped in his chest when he saw her. Her hair, usually so well kept and styled, hung in frayed curls around her face. She’d lost weight, and the white scrubs she was dressed in made her look so tiny in comparison to all the fabric. When she turned her head and saw him, her eyes were the same as he remembered—cold, hard, bitter…

He mouthed to her that he was sorry, but as soon as his caseworker noticed he’d connected with her, she stepped between them, blocking his view. Donna kept an arm around his shoulders, shushing him and whispering words of reassurance even after the judge entered the courtroom and began reciting the dry rhetoric of the case. 

The whole time opening statements were made, Frank sat with his face buried in Donna’s shoulder, crying and praying that God would strike him dead. He loved his mother. She hurt him and angered him, but he _loved_ her. He wanted to be faithful to her, not further seal her fate by speaking against her. All he wanted was to be a good son, even if he hadn’t been given the best mother. 

Then it was time. They wanted him to go up there, draw attention to himself, sit in that high seat above everyone near the judge…and talk. They wanted him to _talk_ and yet his throat felt as if it had been stopped up with cloth rags. He couldn’t even swallow—could barely breathe.

( ) ( ) ( )

Donna couldn’t bear to watch this. They were _killing_ Frank. They were torturing him and they _knew_ it, but they didn’t want to admit it. The defense wanted to claim Mrs. Iero acted out of insanity. The prosecution was willing to use Frank as a tool to combat that claim. They wanted him to paint the picture of the senselessly cruel and violent woman they knew Mrs. Iero to be. What better way to extract sympathy for the boy than throw him to the wolves and watch him cry as he was ripped apart? 

When they asked Frank to tell his side of the story—to start at the beginning and tell it all the way through—he was in hysterics before the first word even came out of his mouth. He refused to say out loud what he’d been doing when his mother came into his room, but he stammered through the story of how his mother had barged in and told him to take off his pants. 

Donna fought the tears as best she could, wanting to look strong for Frank who repeatedly looked to her for support as he choked out his story. But it was impossible not to cry when he confessed to keeping his legs spread so his mother could hit him. He kept repeating over and over that he did as she said because he didn’t want to make her angry—as if he were afraid the people in the courtroom would think he hadn’t fought at all. 

Then he started to apologize and even though the attorney asked him to stop and the judge ordered him to stop, Frank wouldn’t cease pleading with his mother to forgive him for all of this. Donna had known this would happen, and couldn’t help but cover her face to hide her own tears from the boy. 

The judge called for a short recess since the defense still wanted to torture the boy as though the prosecution hadn’t harmed him enough, and when Frank got within arm’s reach, her grabbed Donna and wouldn’t let go. He cried into her chest like an infant, utterly inconsolable no matter what she did or said. 

If not for the caseworker keeping a close watch on her, Donna would’ve taken Frank out the side door and run off down the street with him. It killed her to see Frank hurting so much and she didn’t want to send him back in there for round two—where the defense would accuse him of lying or exaggerating. And Frank, so desperate to please his mother after years of fearing what would happen if he didn’t, would probably agree with whatever that attorney would say. 

Donna was terrified of what would happen when they got home. She would have to keep a close eye on him. Even Zoe wasn’t going to be enough to keep him calm. 

After half an hour, Donna was made to lead Frank back into the courtroom. He was still crying when he was forced to return to the bench, and even though the judge told the defense attorney to “tread lightly,” the man still had a bloodthirsty look in his eyes as he neared Frank. 

He asked the question Frank didn’t want to answer. What had he been doing that upset his mother? 

Frank looked so ashamed and shook his head. The judge told him to answer and Frank sobbed, covering his face with his hands. 

Donna hated everyone in this room for what they were putting _her son_ through. Maybe they didn’t see the irrevocable damage they were causing, but she did. The boy had been violated by his mother—tortured because he’d “given in to sin.” Now he had to admit that to a room full of strangers. And the caseworker said no one believed that making him testify would cause more psychological harm to him?

The attorney asked him what more time.

“Frank, what were you doing that morning when your mother came in your room? What set her off?”

Crying, Frank managed to whimper, “the bad thing.”

“The what?” The attorney pressured.

“The bad thing,” Frank repeated, his hands still pressed over his face as he cried. The members of the jury wouldn’t even look at him, made so uncomfortable by his unending sobs. 

“And what is ‘the bad thing’?” The attorney asked, mocking him. 

Frank shook his head and seemed to collapse inward, covering his face with his arms and falling forward so his elbows were on his knees. He cried and cried and the judge finally, _finally_ showed mercy. He shook his head and gestured for the caseworker to get Frank and take him out of the room. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard had expected things to go badly, but when Frank and Donna got home, the boy could hardly even walk on his own. He was crying even harder than he had been the day Gerard had found him cowering under the table in the Spend N Save storeroom, and once Donna had sat him on the couch, he curled into a tight ball with his head covered—his face hidden. 

“What happened?” Gerard asked, looking to his mother and then to Frank. He’d gotten up from the couch when he’d heard the door open, but was hesitant to sit back down beside the boy. If Frank needed space, Gerard wanted to give it to him. 

Zoe sprinted up the stairs from the basement and hurried to Frank’s side, but he wouldn’t even uncover his face for her.

“It didn’t go well,” Donna said, filling a glass of water at the kitchen sink and then carrying it to Frank. She rubbed his shoulder until he sat up and uncovered his face, then held the cup to his lips for him to take a drink. “It’s okay. You need to calm down, okay? No one’s going to ask you anymore questions.”

Frank could only take a few sips of water before doubling back over. Zoe jumped onto the couch beside him and started to paw at him, whimpering loudly as if in pain as well. Frank turned to her and wrapped his arms around her neck, burying his face in her fur. 

Donna changed the station on the television to a sitcom instead of the action movie Gerard had been watching. She motioned for Gerard to follow her back into the kitchen, and though he was reluctant to leave Frank, he knew there was nothing he could say to calm him. 

“What the hell happened?” Gerard asked, looking at his mother who started rifling through the cupboards as if intending to start dinner. 

“He’s been this way since before the trial even started.”

“Did he even give his testimony or…” Gerard kept looking at the doorway to the living room, listening as Frank talked to Zoe, trying to calm himself down. 

“Yes. But then the defense wanted to talk to him—”

“What the fuck for? He’s not on trial,” Gerard snapped.

“They wanted him to say what he’d been doing that set his mother off, that way they could use it to build her insanity case.”

“It’s obvious she’s fucking crazy,” Gerard said, unable to hold back his rage. Frank wasn’t the criminal—he didn’t need humiliated and cross-examined. He’d done _nothing_ wrong yet there he was, sobbing on the couch with his dog—murmuring how much he loved her and how good she was, telling her all the things he wanted to hear in return. 

“I feel so bad for him. I can’t even believe they thought it was _okay_ to put him through that.”

“Well now they fuckin’ know better,” Gerard hissed. 

“I won’t let them do that to him again,” his mother said firmly. “If they try to set another date, I will refuse. I’ll move out of this fucking country if I have to. They’re going to _kill_ him. Literally _kill_ him.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him tonight and make sure he doesn’t try anything.”

“Good. I might have your father sleep on the couch tonight, too. Just in case. I don’t want him sneaking out or…trying to get a knife or something. I’m worried.”

“I won’t let anything happen,” Gerard said. 

His mother told him a few more details about what had happened at the trial, then started to make dinner. Gerard went back into the living room and sat down on the couch beside Frank with Zoe between them.

“You feeling okay?” Gerard asked, even though he knew Frank wasn’t.

Frank continued to fluff Zoe’s fur for a moment, then looked up and met Gerard’s gaze. His eyes were puffy and red, and his face was still wet with tears.

“Momma was there,” Frank said meekly.

“Yeah?”

“She looked at me.”

Gerard didn’t know what to say so he merely hummed. 

“Do you think they’re going to make me go back?” Frank asked.

“No,” Gerard said, shaking his head and hoping he was telling the truth. Surely they couldn’t justify making Frank go through this again. He’d been humiliated enough. “I know you’re kind of…sad right now, but I got something for you today while you were out. It’s in our room.”

“You got me something?” Frank asked, still hugging and fluffing Zoe. Gerard nodded. “From work?”

“No. I didn’t have work today. I went out.”

“Is it more pants?” Frank asked. Gerard wondered if the boy were trying to make a joke, but it was no secret that he’d been steadily gaining more and more weight and the clothes they bought him were already becoming too small. 

“No. It’s a gift. Something I saw when I was out…”

“Another dog?” Frank asked, eyes lighting up more than they should.

“No—one is enough.”

“A cat?”

“No more pets,” Gerard said, cracking a smile. “Do you want me to go get it?”

“Okay,” Frank said, the light staying in his eyes as he watched Gerard get up and walk out of the room. 

Gerard hurried down to their bedroom and picked up the bag he’d placed on Frank’s bed. It was nice to see Frank get excited instead of anxious at the prospect of the gift. He took the bag and hurried back upstairs. He handed the bag to Frank and offered him a smile, though the boy didn’t notice. 

He had stopped crying, but was still sniffing as he opened the bag and peered inside. His eyes went wide as he pulled out the gift—a digital camera. 

“I thought we could go out sometime and take pictures. Art is a good way to…I don’t know, _express yourself_ I guess, and I know you’re not big into drawing. I thought maybe we could make a photography book.” 

“You keep buying me expensive things,” Frank whispered. 

“Well… You deserve nice things.”

“It’s gonna make Mikey jealous.”

“Mikey doesn’t need a new camera—he already has one. You forget, we’ve been buying him nice things for Christmas and his birthday for years. Trust me. He’s not jealous.”

Frank kept turning the box for the camera over and over in his hand.

“I didn’t charge the battery or anything yet so…”

“I want to go set it up,” Frank mumbled, opening the packaging and working the camera free. 

“So let’s go set it up,” Gerard said, petting Zoe and coaxing the dog to jump off the couch. Once the animal was out from between them, Frank leaned over and gave Gerard a hug, holding him tight. Without much thought, Gerard turned his head and kissed Frank’s cheek when the boy started to pull back. 

He realized it might not have been the best impulse when he noticed Frank staring at him once they were parted. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank laid on his back in his bed, clicking through the photos on his new camera. It had only been charged for about three hours, but he’d already taken a lot of pictures. Mostly, they were of Zoe, but he managed to get a photo with Donna and a couple with Gerard. Mikey had taken the camera and started taking photos of Frank in order to get him to stop taking pictures of him, though it was more playful than spiteful. Frank didn’t like having his picture taken, but didn’t fight it when Mikey took pictures of him. As he laid in bed, he just deleted them without a second thought, not liking the way his face looked in any of them. He only kept the photos of him with his family members—and only because of the other people in them. 

He really liked the photo of him and Gerard. 

Gerard had his arm around his shoulder and his head tipped against Frank’s. Gerard was smiling and Frank was able to smile for him to make a good photo even though he was still sad. 

He tried not to think about the trial, though. If he pushed the memories far enough out of his mind before he slept, Frank was hopeful that maybe tomorrow he could convince himself it was all just a dream. Just a really bad dream. 

“Frank?” Gerard said as he came down the basement stairs.

“Yeah?” Frank lowered the camera and watched as Gerard stepped into the room, working a towel through his hair.

“How are you feeling?”

Fine, Frank thought, until he had to ask that… It reminded him that what happened earlier was real. That the hateful look his mother had given him was real. That he’d been forced to confess to a room full of people that he’d been sinful and that was what made his mother attack him. It was the most embarrassing and humiliating moment of his entire life. 

“I’m not going to do anything,” Frank mumbled, knowing very well why Gerard was asking.

“I know…but you’re upset.”

“I’m fine,” Frank said, turning off the camera and setting it on his bedside table. 

“I worry about you,” Gerard said softly. 

“I’m fine,” Frank repeated, feeling the shame eat away at him. 

“This is…going to sound weird, but I think…you should sleep next to me tonight.”

“Why?” Frank asked, trying to hide his face in the least obvious way possible when he felt his cheeks start to burn. 

“So I know if you try to get up,” Gerard said, fixing Frank with a sad, knowing stare. 

“I’m not going to do anything,” Frank whispered.

“I know. But I’d just feel better if…if I could keep tabs on you. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

“But where will Zoe sleep. She sleeps with me. There’s no room in your bed for all of us.”

“You can sleep without the dog for a night.”

“But she’ll get lonely,” Frank said, looking down at the foot of his bed where his dog slept, one of her paws twitching.

“Frank… Zoe will be fine. I’m worried about _you._ I don’t want you to get upset in the middle of the night and…do something. So I’d feel better if you slept next to me.”

Frank sighed and let his eyes trace the room, not wanting to look Gerard in the face. 

“Fine,” he mumbled.

They spoke awkwardly for about half an hour before Gerard declared it was time for bed. Frank changed into his pajamas and reluctantly climbed into bed beside Gerard. He’d slept next to him before—after each of his attempts so Gerard could keep him protected—but it was different this time. Frank was hurt, but he didn’t feel that bad. Sleeping beside Gerard wasn’t necessary. 

The last few times he’d been upset—he’d been crying and shaking and in desperate need of someone’s arms around him to keep him grounded. Now he was, for the most part, stable. He was afraid that if he laid there long enough, it would give his mind time to wander…

Gerard slept with his back to him though, as opposed to facing him and clutching onto him as he had before. At first, Frank was thankful, but when Gerard’s breaths became deep and even—hinting that he’d gone to sleep and that Frank was alone—he started to feel anxious. The bed was too hot but he was afraid that if he moved too much to get cool then it would wake Gerard who would worry. 

Slowly, Frank rolled over and managed to slip one of his legs out from under the blankets so he could cool down. He scooted a little closer to Gerard and let his forehead come to rest between Gerard’s shoulder blades, nuzzling his back and closing his eyes tight. He wanted to sleep, but his mind wouldn’t turn off. 

He thought of the trial and Momma…How he’d ended up there. What he’d been made to tell those people. He was humiliated and ashamed. 

Maybe Gerard had been right about this. Maybe he did need to be close tonight…

Frank snuggled a little closer, daring to fold himself completely against Gerard’s back. He felt a little safer being closer to Gerard, but not as safe or cared for as he did when he slept with Gerard holding him.


	35. Chapter 35

_Chapter 35_

Frank laid on the floor of Mikey’s room, thumbing through his biology book even though he knew he was going to fail his test anyway. He couldn’t really focus or bring himself to care about cell division or whatever until his class was on. He was unhappy, even with Zoe at his side. Nothing helped him…no one could help him. Not even Gerard and all of his kind, wonderful, thoughtful gifts.

“Do you want to go with me to walk Zoe?” Frank asked, looking over his shoulder at Mikey’s bed where his best friend was sitting to study.

“We just walked her an hour ago,” Mikey said. 

“Yeah, but I’m bored…”

“Come on, you need to study.”

“I’m going to fail anyway,” Frank mumbled, letting out a heavy sigh. 

“Not if you study.”

“I don’t even know what _unit_ we’re on.”

“What do you in class?”

“I don’t know,” Frank mumbled, not wanting to admit that he spent most of his time with his head down on his desk ignoring the teacher. He didn’t get in trouble for acting out. Not anymore. Since the teachers had found out about his mother, they all tiptoed around him. He could probably scream in his teachers faces and not even get sent to the office for it. 

“Mom’s gonna be mad if you fail,” Mikey said.

“I know…”

“Do you need, like…a tutor or something? I sucked at biology or else I’d help you.”

“I don’t want a tutor. I just don’t want to do it.”

Frank knew he was frustrating his friend, but he couldn’t help it. Nothing really felt like it mattered to him. Teachers gave him extensions on his homework—sometimes even up to a week after it was actually due. He wondered if he could get teachers to let him wait to take tests too. 

“I don’t want to do Algebra II but I have to,” Mikey said.

“I’m just tired,” Frank mumbled. 

“You’re depressed,” Mikey said. “Aren’t you taking your medication?”

The therapist had prescribed him anti-depressants, but Frank refused to take them. He didn’t want to have to take drugs to feel better—he wanted to feel better on his own. Gerard told him he was being stubborn, showed him his own anti-depressant prescription, and practically pleaded with Frank to give them a try, but Frank resisted. He wasn’t _sick._ He didn’t need medication. Frank wanted to get over it on his own, but it just wasn’t working out.

“Maybe you just need to get out more,” Mikey said when Frank didn’t answer him. “You hardly go to Jamia’s anymore.”

“Because I don’t want in trouble.”

“You won’t get in trouble.”

“She wanted me to go to another party last weekend.”

“So? You’re not grounded anymore. You can go, just don’t get wasted again.”

Frank sighed heavily and let his head come to rest on the textbook. It wasn’t that Frank wanted to go to back to the way things were before, where he had no friends outside of Mikey, but he didn’t trust Jamia anymore. She’d promised him the night of the last party that she wouldn’t leave him on his own, but she had. She had and without her to watch him, he’d gotten himself into trouble. He didn’t want to let himself do that again. 

“You don’t have to stay here all the time.”

“I know,” Frank mumbled.

“Frank. Come on. You need to stop this.”

“Stop _what?_ ” Frank grumbled.

“Sulking. You don’t have to stay in all the time.”

“But there’s no point going out either. Even when I do hang out with Jamia it’s…boring. I just sit there and she tells me about the girls she likes while I play with her dog. I like my dog. I’d rather be at home.”

Mikey let out a loud groan and slammed closed the textbook he was reading. 

“You’re driving me crazy,” Mikey said, frustrated. 

Frank just sighed and laid on his textbook. A few minutes later there was a knock on the bedroom door and Gerard stepped in, dressed in his work polo. 

“You’re home early,” Mikey said. Frank was content to just lie on the floor and stare at Gerard. 

“Yeah… Frank, can you give us a minute?” Gerard said, looking at Frank and flashing a smile.

The smile confused him and Frank’s chest started to tighten.

“Did I do something?” He asked, unable to contain the self-doubt and anxiety that immediately rushed him. 

“No. I just need to talk to Mikey for a minute,” Gerard said, still smiling. 

That smile unsettled him and Frank chewed his lip as he got up stiffly from the floor, trying to decide whether or not to grab his textbook. Leaving it behind was a good way to get out of studying, but he didn’t want Gerard to see how lazy he was letting himself become. He picked up the textbook and kept his head down as he slipped out of the room, his shoulder brushing Gerard’s arm as he went. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard couldn’t quite place the look on Frank’s face as he stepped into the hallway. He looked anxious, but he guessed that the boy probably thought he was in trouble if he was being asked to leave. Hopefully he didn’t get too upset over it, though if he did he would probably just go cling to Donna. She’d let him go back to obsessively hugging her after the trial. He needed it though. He’d never quite bounced back from that and Gerard was starting to think he never would. 

“What’s up?” Mikey asked, closing his textbook and tossing it aside onto the pile of books and papers near his book bag on the floor. 

“Well… I know that lately, you know, we’ve been getting a lot of…well—”

“Oh, spit it out already,” Mikey said, rolling his eyes. “I’m not going to get mad at you, you big wimp.”

“We’ve been getting a lot of nice things for Frank lately,” Gerard said. “That doesn’t bother you, does it?”

“Ugh, is this about the camera again? Mom already asked me and I’ll tell you what I told her—I already _have_ a camera. I don’t care that you bought Frank a camera.”

“It’s not just about the camera. It’s...it’s the dog and—and everything else. All the clothes, the furniture.”

“Gerard, I don’t care about that stuff. Frank needed clothes and it’s not like we could just make him sleep on the floor. Why are you getting all…weird? You’re starting to sound like _Frank.”_

“I just know you and him were good friends before he moved in and—”

“We’re still _friends,_ we just don’t have as much to talk about. I used to be the person vented to about his mom. That’s not his problem anymore so there’s not much to say.”

“Okay, so…here’s the thing, we’re hiring someone to do freight over at the store. It’s seasonal, you know, for the holidays and stuff.”

“And you want Frank to work there?” Mikey said, looking at Gerard as if he thought his older brother were stupid. The look made Gerard _feel_ stupid.

“I wanted to see if you wanted it first.”

“Why would I want a job at the same store where you work? I see enough of your ugly face here at home.”

“I just thought I’d ask. I don’t want you to feel jealous of Frank.”

“I’m not _jealous_ of Frank! He’s my best friend!—And with you and Mom buying him everything he wants, I don’t have to do it with my allowance anymore.”

“So you don’t want the job?”

“No,” Mikey said, his tone implying the question, why would he want to get a job when he got an allowance from Mom?

“And it won’t make you mad if I give it to Frank?”

“Did Mom put you up to this?”

“Yeah kind of,” Gerard admitted.

“Knew it.”

“And this way Frank can’t get all—”

“Weird,” Mikey said when Gerard struggled to find a more sensitive wording.

“Yeah, all weird about it.”

“Really, I don’t care. It’d do Frank some good to get out of the house for once.”

“Doesn’t he ever talk to that Jamie girl anymore?”

“Not really. He thinks she’s going to get him in trouble.”

Gerard sighed and shook his head. The boy needed to get some confidence, and he really hoped Ray was right in his assumption that if Frank got a job—something to dedicate himself to—that he might develop some self-worth. 

“But really,” Mikey said, “give Frank the job. Give him something to do because, honestly, his shitty attitude is starting to piss me off.”

“He’s _depressed,_ ” Gerard said, knowing full well what that felt like and how much it hurt to have his family judge him because of it. They all seemed to think it was something easily shaken off—that all he needed was to change his state of mind and he’d feel just perfect. It wasn’t that easy. He knew it was exhausting for his family, but the criticism still hurt and it would hurt Frank ten times worse. He was so damned sensitive…

“Yeah, I know,” Mikey said. “It doesn’t make him any easier to deal with. I _try._ I don’t get mad at him or anything, but he wears me out.”

“Just be nice to him,” Gerard said, opening the bedroom door and stepping out into the hall. He expected Frank to be waiting outside the door, but the boy was nowhere to be found. He went down to the living room where his mother was sitting on the couch, but she told him Frank had gone down to his room. 

When he got down to their room, Frank was lying in his bed with Zoe, his textbook open on his pillow although he was lying down on his side to cuddle the dog. 

“Hey,” Gerard said, offering him a smile. 

Frank, apparently not happy with having been asked to leave Mikey’s room, just stared at him and kept petting Zoe. 

“I wanted to ask you something.”

“What?” Frank mumbled, looking at Zoe instead of Gerard.

“We’ve got a job opening at the Spend N Save. It’d just be part-time doing freight. You interested?”

“A job?” Frank asked, his expression unreadable.

“Yeah. I thought it might give you something to do—”

“To get me out of the house?” Frank asked quietly.

“Yeah, that and get your mind off things. You’d work with me Sunday and Monday, but I’m usually off Tuesdays and they need you that night. Would that be okay? Is that something you’re interested in?”

“Work on a Sunday?” Frank asked, looking almost sad. 

Gerard had almost forgotten the boy was raised Catholic. He’d mentioned a few times that he wanted to go to church, but never would say where or when mass was held. Gerard wondered if Frank was too embarrassed to go there without his mother—afraid the other members of the congregation would judge him as “that boy who sent his mother to prison.”

“If you don’t want to, that’s fine. I just wanted to offer.”

“Just three days a week?” Frank asked.

“Yeah, Sunday through Tuesday.”

“And I’d work with you Sunday and Monday?”

“Yup.”

Frank was quiet and looked at Zoe while he thought about it, stroking her head and then leaning forward to kiss her on the nose. 

“Do you really think I’d be any good at it?” Frank asked.

“Yeah. It’s not hard work—just freight.”

“Freight?”

“You unload the truck and help put things away. The store’s understaffed. They need all the help they can get. Especially around the holidays.”

“I don’t know,” Frank mumbled.

“It’d help us out at home, too, Frank. You need more clothes and…we can’t really afford it right now. But if you got a job, you could buy some of your own things.”

“Donna didn’t say we were out of money…” Frank said, looking guilty. It hadn’t been Gerard’s intention to _guilt_ him into accepting the job, but it seemed to work.

“We’re not _out_ of money. Money’s just tight right now, that’s all. Especially since Mom’s saving up for Christmas.”

“You don’t need to buy me anything for Christmas,” Frank mumbled, kissing Zoe’s nose again and smiling at her when she licked his mouth. 

“You’re getting shit for Christmas. Get used to it, kid.”

“But if you’re out of money—”

“We’re not _out of money._ Look, if you get this job you can buy Zoe’s food and some new toys for her.”

Finally, Frank’s eyes lit up. He wasn’t motivated by money or by getting things for himself, but when it came to Zoe—his _baby_ —he would do anything. 

“I could get her a sweater for when it starts snowing,” Frank said, almost as if to himself.

“Frank, she’s got fur. She doesn’t need a sweater.”

“I have skin and fat, and I need a sweater,” Frank mumbled.

Gerard decided that if buying a sweater was all the motivation Frank needed to take the job, then he would just go with it. 

“Do you want the job?”

“Yes,” Frank said, kissing Zoe on the nose again. 

“Awesome. I’ll have to have you fill out the application tonight and I’ll give it to Ray in the morning. Just a formality.”

“Okay,” Frank said, sounding distant as though he weren’t really listening. He went to hug Zoe and pull her closer, but it must’ve made the dog uncomfortable because she stood up and moved to lie at the foot of the bed. “I’m going to take a nap before dinner,” Frank mumbled.

“Alright,” Gerard said, going over to his desk and pulling out his sketchpad and headphones. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Wearing one of Gerard’s old work polos gave him some comfort, but Frank was still shaking nervously as he was led to the back of the store. He didn’t like coming in here, even when Donna would take him to shop—not after the number of times he’d been caught stealing and especially not after coming there to hide after being attacked by his mother. 

He was embarrassed when Gerard formally introduced him to the manager, Ray, and then became even more anxious when Gerard left him alone with the man in the back storeroom. The back door was open and a long, metal conveyor belt was set up between the back of semi-trailer that led from the truck to the open back door. Ray was already unloading boxes, but stopped to tell Frank what each of the many somewhat empty six wheeler carts were meant to hold. 

It made Frank nervous and with each box that came down the conveyor, Frank felt compelled to ask and make sure that the cart he meant to set the box on was the correct one. Every time he expected Ray to finally lose his patience and break his friendly composure, but the man never did. Even the truck driver who had to have gotten frustrated with how slowly the packages were leaving the conveyor merely smiled whenever he and Frank made eye contact across the space between the store and the truck. 

It seemed that with every third box or so Frank managed to hurt himself—get scraped or smashed, or trip and fall over while carrying something. For the most part he was able to hold back noises of pain, but whenever he couldn’t Ray always asked if he was okay and made a point to come to his side when he fell. He didn’t even check the boxes first to make sure the product wasn’t damaged—he just came to help Frank. 

After a short time, the six wheeler holding toilet paper and tissues became full and Ray showed Frank where to take it and how to stack the boxes so they were out of the way. That six wheeler filled up four more times before the truck was empty—after two hours of heavy lifting that Frank was far from used to—but Frank still had two more hours of work before he could go home with Gerard. 

When all of the boxes were off the truck, Frank was allowed to take off his winter coat and gloves. His job became taking all of the toilet paper and tissues out of their boxes and putting them on the shelves. He didn’t think it should take too long, but hurried to open the boxes anyway. Even though the job had been handed to him, Frank didn’t want to disappoint anyone. 

He really struggled at first to figure out where the different brands and packages went, but after about half an hour he ceased struggling and most of his time was spent walking down the long aisle, reorganizing the boxes he’d dropped off earlier in order to put them closer to their space. The hardest part of this task was getting the toilet paper onto the very top shelf. He was already short and even when he stepped on the bottom shelf and tried to jump and throw the packages, he couldn’t quite make it… But it would be really embarrassing to have to ask for a stepping stool. 

“How’s it coming?” Gerard asked, slithering around the corner. Frank had seen the man watching him from across the store a few times but this was the first time that he’d come over. 

“Okay,” Frank said, hurrying to put out the tall rolls of Charmin toilet paper. 

“Sore?”

“I will be tomorrow,” Frank mumbled, not wanting to admit that his back and arms were already hurting terribly. 

“Make sure you take a hot shower tonight. That should help,” Gerard said, watching Frank as he worked.

Frank hummed and opened another one of the boxes. What was inside made him sigh… It was more of the product that went on the top shelf. He was able to get the first few rolls on the shelf by getting on his tiptoes, but then it got harder when it came to putting the next few rolls on top of the former—stacking them higher. 

“Do you need help?” Gerard asked, watching as Frank climbed onto the bottom shelf and reached up, trying to swing the package onto the already high stack of rolls. 

“I got it,” Frank mumbled, grabbing the second to last package from the box and climbing back onto the shelf. 

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” Frank said, jumping to get the package on top of the stack.

“You’re making mess of this shelf,” Gerard said, reaching up to straighten the packages Frank couldn’t reach.

Frank grabbed the last package from the box and climbed onto the shelf a final time.

“It’s not my fault I’m short,” he muttered as he jumped up and tried to swing the package up onto the stack as he had before. Only this time the foot he had supporting most of his weight as he jumped slipped. Frank let out a loud squeak of fear when he lost his footing and flailed, the package of toilet paper still secured in his hand. He started falling backwards and he squeezed his eyes shut, cringing in an anticipation of the moment his head would smash against the floor or worse—the sharp edge of the shelf behind him.

But instead of smacking onto the floor, Frank fell against something warm and soft—Gerard, he realized, catching him. Frank felt his cheeks start to burn, a blush that only got worse when he felt one of Gerard’s hands run up his side as the man tried to break his fall. 

The polo Frank was wearing had belonged to Gerard and it was too large for him, leaving a gap between his waist and the fabric—a gap in which Gerard’s hand immediately ended up. So instead of merely running along his hip in those few brief seconds, Gerard’s hand ended up inside Frank’s shirt—gliding along his skin. His hand was cold and raised goosebumps in Frank’s skin all the way from the angle of his hip to his under arm—to his chest as Gerard closed his arms around him to keep him from falling to the floor.

“You okay?” Gerard asked, still holding Frank against his chest. 

Frank couldn’t answer him. His throat had tightened and his face was burning bright. He tried to worm away, but as soon as he did he felt Gerard pull his hand away—unintentionally sliding his cold fingers across Frank’s chest, across his nipple.

That Gerard had to have noticed. _Had to._

Frank let out a shaky gasp and pushed back against Gerard’s chest, simultaneously liking and hating the way the touch made him feel. He wanted to get out of Gerard’s hold, but at the same time didn’t. He felt safe and comforted, but at the same time there was something else… Something _bad._

He heard Gerard curse under his breath, but the words sounded as though they’d been whispered across the store. Frank could barely hear him at all—too lost in his own thoughts. He stayed still and let Gerard move him how he pleased. Frank barely even realized it when he was standing on his own two feet without Gerard behind him.

“I’m gonna…I gotta get you a stool…’fore you break your fuckin’…yeah,” Gerard was talking—maybe to Frank, maybe to himself—as he walked away. Frank watched him go, blinking slowly. He tried to make sense of the feel in his chest but there was nothing that came to mind. All he wanted was to follow Gerard and cling close to him—to get that closeness back. That feeling…what was that?


	36. Chapter 36

_Chapter 36_

“Whoa, are you okay?” Ellen asked as Gerard approached her. He was rubbing his face, trying to get the redness out of his cheeks but knowing he was only making it worse. 

“Yeah,” Gerard muttered, dropping his hands and trying to act more natural as he made his way behind the front counter. 

“You sure?” Ellen asked, looking him over as she restocked the bags on her carousel. 

“Yeah,” he drawled.

Ellen fixed him with the same look his mother would get when something in the house got broken and no one would take the blame. “Really?” She asked.

“Eh—Frank fell,” Gerard said.

“Is he okay?”

“Yeah… I caught him, but…”

“But?” She pressed. 

“My hand kinda went up his shirt and it was awkward.” All the redness returned to his cheeks and Gerard leaned down against the counter.

“You put your hands up his shirt?! What the hell are you guys doing back there?”

“I didn’t _mean_ to! He’s too short to reach the top shelf to put the toilet paper up so he was climbing on it and…and he _slipped._ ”

“So you caught him—what’s the big deal?” Ellen asked, rolling her eyes and patting Gerard’s back. 

“My _hand_ went up his shirt!”

“So? The only reason it’s awkward is because you’re _making_ it awkward. You’re both guys. It’s not like you squeezed his boobs.”

“Yeah, but I still touched his…his chest.” Gerard stared at his right hand as though it were an offense to him—as if it had slipped from Frank’s ribcage to ghost over his nipple on its own. 

_“So?_ You’re both guys. It’s not a big deal.”

Gerard decided to stop pushing it. She would never understand and if he started explaining she would probably look at him in disgust. As soon as he realized he was touching Frank’s skin instead of the rough fabric of his shirt, Gerard’s mind started churning out idea after idea. What was meant to be a protective embrace turned into a horrible, _horrible_ excuse to move his hand a little higher and feel just a little bit more. It had all happened so fast and as soon as the idea appeared in his mind, he acted on it. He felt Frank’s skin start prickling with goosebumps and as soon as Gerard’s fingers slipped over the boy’s nipple, he felt it harden. 

Gerard shook his head, trying to get the memory to go away. Nothing worked though. Gerard was already fantasizing—standing at _work_ and _fantasizing_ —about how he might get that close again.

It was wrong—it was so fucking wrong—but Gerard couldn’t help it. Maybe he’d been single too long. Yeah, surely that had to be it. It’d just been too long since he’d touched another guy and his brain was getting confused. 

“Shit. I forgot.”

“What?” Ellen asked, watching Gerard as he pulled himself away from the counter.

“I told him I’d get him a stool so he won’t fall down again.” Gerard grabbed the small, yellow stepping stool from its space beside the cigarette cabinet and hurried back over the corner of the store where Frank was working. 

When Frank saw him, he stiffened and his cheeks turned bright red. His blush only served to make Gerard blush harder. 

“I got you a stool,” Gerard mumbled, setting the stool down near Frank, not wanting to get too close and make him uncomfortable. “So…be careful, okay? Ma will kill me if I bring you home injured.”

“Okay,” Frank whispered, looking down at the open box at his feet. He was all hunched over as if trying to protect himself. Gerard looked him over, trying not to make it obvious as Frank returned to working, and could see that the boy had a slight limp in his walk. 

“Did you get hurt?” He asked, wanting to go over and rub his shoulder or offer him some comfort but forcing himself to stay a safe distance away. 

“I twisted my ankle when I fell,” Frank said, passing Gerard a sideways glance as if afraid to face him directly. 

“Do you need to sit down for a minute? You should…you should let me check it out. You might’ve sprained it.” Gerard moved around the stool to come to Frank’s side. Once he’d gotten closer he just felt more awkward and was reluctant to put his hands on the boy again.

“It’s fine,” Frank said, pulling away. At first, Gerard thought the boy was repulsed by him—disturbed that Gerard had touched him in that way even though Gerard was _almost_ sure it was an accident—but then he realized the box Frank had been working on was empty and the boy was merely moving on to the next one.

“Are you sure? You’re limping.”

“Yeah. I’ve had worse.” Frank said it like it was nothing, but the words struck a chord in Gerard. Yes, he most certainly had been subjected to worse. 

“You need to let me see if you sprained it,” Gerard said. 

“I’m fine. It’s just a little sore,” Frank insisted, opening up another one of the boxes. 

“Okay. I’ll…I’ll leave you to it then,” Gerard said, fidgeting uncomfortably before retreating out of the aisle. The store was slow and there wasn’t much to do, so Gerard wandered around straightening whatever he felt like—often ending up in aisles that kept Frank in sight.

( ) ( ) ( )

When they got into the house, Frank ran immediately down into their bedroom and collected his pajamas to take upstairs to the shower. The ride home with Gerard had just made him more and more flustered and he couldn’t get the images or the memories of the sensations out of his head. All he wanted was to get away—get space between himself and Gerard—so he could calm down and talk himself out of it. Talk himself out of this stupid, selfish, sinful _crush._ Gerard didn’t touch him because he liked him, he touched him because he’d fallen and if he had gotten hurt he might’ve had to leave work. The touch meant nothing.

The delicate, gentle, slow, safe touches were _nothing._

Yet Frank was _still_ blushing furiously as he hurried past Donna and made his way upstairs to the bathroom. He locked the door behind him and shakily sank down onto the floor, not sure whether he was going to cry or scream or just sit there and shake. Ever since Gerard’s hand had been under his shirt, he’d felt on edge—he’d felt…strange. He just wanted to be near Gerard, but the logical half of his brain scolded him and put him back in his place. 

Gerard didn’t want him clinging. It was inappropriate and immature for a boy his age to hug and cling… It was shameful, and the images in his head were straight up sin. Gerard would _hate_ him if he knew. All the nice words would stop. All the gifts, all the gentleness, all the affection whenever he got depressed and made an attempt—all of it. It would all stop. 

And Frank knew very well that life without the love and support he got from Donna and Gerard specifically wasn’t worth living. 

He needed to stop this stupid feeling, get over himself, and let things go back to normal before he ruined his new family just like he’d ruined his actual one. 

Frank slowly started undressing and turned on the shower, giving the water time to get hot as he stepped out of his jeans. He forced himself to look down as he took off his boxers, taking in the awful sight of the scars and bruises. Let that serve as a reminder of _why_ he and Gerard couldn’t be together—one reminder of many. He wasn’t good enough. He was damaged and ugly and _gross._ Even if Gerard liked other men, he would never go for something so repulsive. 

Finally, the feeling of being on edge left as Frank stood in front of the bathroom mirror and started crying, covering himself after the sight became too much to bear. He couldn’t stop crying either, even as he showered. Whenever his mind would recall the feeling of Gerard’s hands running over the same skin Frank was washing, he would remind himself that he was unworthy—make himself look down and see why. 

By the time he was finished bathing he had to stay in the shower a little longer just to make himself stop crying so Donna wouldn’t see and ask him what was wrong. His eyes would still be red, but he was hopeful he could just hurry down to his bed and hide before anyone saw him. 

After being in the bathroom for close to an hour, Frank finally dried off and dressed in his pajamas. He was relieved to be covered again, unable to see his hideous discolorations, but the images were still fresh in his mind and nearly had him in tears again as he hurried downstairs to his bed—avoiding Donna who asked him how his night at work had gone. Gerard still had the overhead light on and was sitting in his bed sketching when Frank got to the basement. Frank tried to keep his head down, but Gerard looked up at the worst possible moment for Frank and noticed. 

“Hey—what’s wrong?” Gerard asked, setting aside his sketch pad and getting up from his bed.

Frank shook his head quickly and laid down on his own bed. 

“Frank… Don’t be like that. Do you hurt from work or…”

Frank closed his eyes tightly as he felt the bed dip as Gerard sat down beside him. Gerard started rubbing his shoulder and Frank sank his teeth into his bottom lip when the desire came to roll over—desperate to have Gerard touch him again the way he had in the store. But that would never happen again. It should never have happened to begin with. And if Gerard knew the sick, perverse thoughts Frank was having, he wouldn’t even touch Frank again for so much as hug. 

“What’s wrong?” Gerard asked again. 

“I’m fine,” Frank said, pulling his blankets over his shoulders. 

“Are you sure? You look really upset.”

“My ankle hurts from earlier,” Frank said quickly.

“From when you slipped?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think it’s sprained?”

“No. I’m fine,” Frank whispered, squeezing his eyes closed. 

“If you’re crying then you’re not fine. Can I look?”

“Really, I’m fine,” Frank said, but it was no use. Gerard was already pulling the blankets away from his feet. 

“Which ankle is it?”

“My right one,” Frank mumbled, squirming uncomfortably as Gerard picked up his right ankle and turned it in his hand. “It’s fine.”

“It doesn’t look swollen or anything… Does it crack or pop when you walk?”

“No,” Frank mumbled. 

“It doesn’t look sprained…” He set Frank’s foot back down on the bed and Frank immediately pulled his knees up to his chest to get his feet back under the blankets. Frank thought he was about to get away with his lie, but he guessed he’d been around Gerard’s family too long for his older brother to fall for it. “Frank…what’s really wrong? You know you can tell me.”

“It’s nothing,” Frank said, squeezing his eyes tightly. 

“Is it…your mom? The trial?”

“No. It’s _nothing._ Really, I’m fine.”

“You’re crying… You’re _not_ fine. Come on. You know you can talk to me.”

Frank shook his head, not wanting to be so pathetic. If there was even the smallest chance that Gerard would ever like him, it would be crushed if Frank couldn’t keep himself together. Gerard told him all the time not to cling to people and be childish… 

“Frank… Talk to me.”

“I’m just tired and my ankle hurts,” Frank whispered, clutching onto his blanket. Gerard needed to let it go—he needed to just go back to his own bed and put his headphones on. He needed to go away before he reminded himself of why he didn’t like Frank at all…

“Okay… If you need me just…just say so.” Gerard got up and turned off the light. Frank immediately felt relief and not long after that more tears worked their way down his cheeks, hidden by the dark. 

( ) ( ) ( )

The next day was the first day of Frank’s life that he had to balance work and school. He was scheduled to come in at six—Gerard set to come in at four—so Donna would have to drive him. That made him anxious since he didn’t want to bother her, but she laughed off his concerns—almost overdoing it with her happy indifference after seeing how upset Frank had been the night before. 

Since all the paper products had been put out the previous night, Frank was set to work with Ellen to put out the food. Monday night was also a bit busier than Sunday and it irked Gerard a bit that he couldn’t spend most of his time standing in an aisle pretending to straighten products while keeping his eye on Frank. Instead, he wandered around and confronted a woman whom he’d caught stealing a compact mirror and some lipstick, then a few hours later he snagged a man stealing a pack of screws and nails. 

While he was busy stalking customers, Frank clung to Ellen asking her where to find the products he needed to shelve, not sure of the store’s layout quite yet. Asking her, however, seemed to make Frank nervous and Gerard would often catch him asking Ray instead. It almost hurt Gerard’s feelings when Frank didn’t ever ask him where to find anything. 

Frank didn’t even text him at all that day when he’d been at school and Gerard was almost positive that the boy was avoiding him. Gerard didn’t know if it was because Frank was trying to act more independent—after all, he’d cried the previous night and refused to accept any comfort—or if he really was avoiding Gerard because of what had happened yesterday. 

So while Gerard struggled to piece together a conversation to have with Frank on their ride home that might get the boy to relax around him again, Frank continued to struggle with his job. He walked around the three aisles of food looking for more packages of the instant mashed potatoes he had in his hands. He didn’t want to ask Ellen again out of fear of annoying her, but Ray was nowhere to be seen. He was starting to feel desperate when he just couldn’t figure out where the boxes went and almost considered asking Gerard.

But he didn’t want to bother Gerard. He wanted to do this on his own—to prove that he was able to take care of himself and that he didn’t need fussed over or babysat. It was embarrassing enough that he’d hurt himself the day before and he wanted tonight to pass without incident. 

Finally, _finally_ he found out where the potatoes went and returned to his cart of boxes. He felt a little bit of pride in himself when he was able to find the right shelves for the case of mustard and ranch dressing in a matter of seconds rather than minutes. Ellen, who was balancing working register without putting away the freight, was able to put away about three boxes of product for every one of Frank’s and he hoped that one day he would be able to move faster than her. 

“You’re doing really well, Frankie,” Ellen said when they had moved on to the third of the six food carts. 

“Not really,” Frank mumbled. 

“Sure you are.”

“I don’t know where anything goes,” Frank mumbled.

“You’ll get better. It’s hard to figure out where everything goes at first, but you get used to it. Even I get stumped on some products.”

“Really?”

“Yeah—all the time. It’ll be worse here soon though because we’re going to be doing a reset.”

“What’s that?” Frank asked, sifting through the boxes on the six wheeler and stacking them into one of the blue, store carts. He opened each box before setting it in his cart so he could see what was inside and try to put the easier to find items on top. 

“It’s where we get a bunch of new products and we reorganize the shelves.”

“Reorganize?” Frank said, his spirits sinking. “How am I ever going to find anything then?”

“You learn. You’re a pretty quick learner. You should give yourself some more credit,” Ellen said, flashing him a smile before wheeling her cart full of boxes away down the aisle. 

Frank felt his cheeks start to burn at the compliment, not entirely believing it but flattered regardless. 

Though he was still sore from working truck the day before, Frank had to admit that he felt a lot better when it was time to leave than he had before. His muscles were sore, but he didn’t have to do nearly as much heavy lifting. His ankle had also stopped hurting which came as a great relief. 

Frank stood next to Gerard a little uncomfortably when it came time to clock out and leave, still not completely recovered from what had happened yesterday. The closer he stood to Gerard, the more flustered and embarrassed he felt. He had a terrible fear that his thoughts would suddenly be broadcast out loud and Gerard might hear the things he was thinking. In between the self-loathing, depressing thoughts he had toward himself, he couldn’t help but relive every instant that Gerard’s skin had touched his own. 

He remembered how soft Gerard’s hands had been and how they slid along his hip, over his side, up his chest… As soon as the thoughts would make him start blushing, the cruel thoughts would come—his mother’s voice reminding him of how ugly and stupid and sinful he was. If not hers, then it was his own telling him how unworthy he was and always would be. He could never earn Gerard’s affection—not any more than what came from being his brother. 

Frank kept his head ducked low as he clocked out and hurried over to the front door. Gerard followed him silently, but as soon as they were both in the car Gerard turned to look at him through the dim lamp light in the parking lot. 

“What?” Frank asked, squirming in his seat. 

“Something’s wrong,” Gerard said. 

“Something’s wrong?” 

“You’ve been avoiding me all day. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Frank mumbled, glad it was dark and Gerard couldn’t see him blushing. He was sick of being so easily flustered, but couldn’t help the way Gerard made him feel. He hoped that if he stayed far enough away then it would stop on its own, but one day was hardly enough to make an improvement.

“Frank, don’t lie to me. You’ve been avoiding me. Why?”

“I was working,” Frank said, swallowing hard. “You’re not supposed to talk to people when you’re working.”

“You wouldn’t even answer my texts this morning.” He sounded hurt by it and that surprised Frank. Gerard had merely asked him how his day was going at school. Frank hadn’t done anything interesting at all at school so he didn’t bother to text back, believing that he would just be boring Gerard. 

“I didn’t have anything to say,” Frank mumbled.

“Frank, come on. Be serious.”

“I am,” Frank said, trying to sound stern but unable to sound the least bit convincing.

“Is this about…what happened yesterday?”

Frank was certain there was no blood left in his body at all—it had all rushed to his cheeks which felt as if they were on fire. 

“So that’s it then,” Gerard said softly when Frank didn’t answer. “Frank, I was just trying to catch you.”

“I know,” Frank said. He wanted to add more—to _insist_ that the touch meant nothing to him and that he knew it was an accident—but he was afraid that he would look too adamant and therefore make himself look guilty. Gerard could _never_ know how that touch had made him feel. Never _ever._

“Then what’s _wrong?_ You’re not acting like yourself.”

“Yes I am,” Frank whispered. 

“Frank…” Gerard was getting frustrated and Frank didn’t want him to get mad.

“I know you didn’t mean to touch me,” Frank mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut out of the shame. It was sinful to recognize that touch. Frank was terrified that by even mentioning it, Gerard was going to know it made him lust for sin. He was desperate that Gerard would never know his true feelings for him. 

Gerard wouldn’t understand. He would be repulsed. He could tell Donna and have her kick him out…Send him to foster care since his own father didn’t want him. Then Frank would have no one. 

“Okay. So why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not avoiding you. I was just working,” Frank said, fidgeting in his seat as if the seatbelt over his shoulders were strangling him.

“Okay,” Gerard said, turning the key and starting the car. Frank let out a sigh of relief and shook his head. That was close, way too close.


	37. Chapter 37

_Chapter 37_

Frank had been working at the Spend N Save alongside Gerard for only a couple of weeks before it was time for Thanksgiving. He and Donna had been working out a plan for a meal that would still be fitting for the holiday but also vegan so Frank could eat it too. The whole mean couldn’t be vegan, however, Donna told him. They were expecting relatives and those family members would be expecting turkey. 

Unable to hold back, Frank asked if Donna wanted him to go out on Thanksgiving to give her family space. She’d given him _that_ look, the disappointed, pitying one, and then hugged him. He wasn’t going to be hiding from her family. He was her new son and these were his new relatives. She didn’t seem to realize how uncomfortable meeting the new people would make him, especially since he would have to have a special, vegan plate. No doubt these relatives would think him stuck up and selfishly expensive. 

Other than the turkey, Donna found ways to make the meal vegan and took Frank with her shopping for the ingredients. She invited Gerard to come, but he’d said no. 

Ever since the incident at work, Gerard had pretty much stopped going near him all together. Frank hadn’t had any particularly bad nights since then that would usually get Gerard to sleep beside him, but Frank felt that even if he did, Gerard wouldn’t comfort him like before. Gerard was becoming distant and that hurt, but Frank understood. He was the one who’d made it awkward and had he just been able to control himself, nothing would’ve changed. It was better this way, though… He needed to let go of Gerard, not encourage his sinful, inappropriate thoughts. 

The relatives would be arriving tomorrow yet Donna had already started the baking. She’d baked pie for desert which was in the oven now as Frank lie in bed staring at the wall. He was nervous for tomorrow, but had no one he could tell about it besides Jamia and she had stopped answering his texts. She was out at the movies with the Chelsea girl she’d been infatuated with for months and though Frank was excited for her, he really just needed someone to talk to.

“What’s the matter with you tonight? You’re so quiet…” Gerard said. He was sitting at his desk sketching, his back to Frank. 

“I don’t know,” Frank mumbled.

“Oh, come on. Is this about my family coming over for Thanksgiving?”

“Maybe,” Frank said, sighing. 

“Why have you been so…so _stubborn_ lately? Jesus Christ,” Gerard said, sounding bitter. Frank felt a pang in his stomach and rolled over onto his side. He didn’t want Gerard mad at him, but that was becoming more and more of a reality. The more texts he ignored from Gerard, the angrier his _older foster brother_ got. Gerard was offended by the gesture, but Frank knew that he would be more than repulsed if he knew why Frank wasn’t answering him. “I’m still waiting for an answer,” Gerard snapped.

“Because,” Frank mumbled.

“Goddamn it, Frank. What’s wrong, huh? Did I do something to piss you off? What? Why won’t you talk to me?” Gerard dropped his pencil and turned around in his seat, fixing Frank with a cold glare that struck Frank down to his core. 

He didn’t want Gerard _angry_ with him, and no matter how many times he told himself it was better this way, it _hurt_ to have Gerard mad. 

“You didn’t do anything,” Frank whispered, chewing his bottom lip anxiously. 

“So then why are you treating me like—like _crap?_ You ignore me, you avoid me, you don’t answer my texts. What the hell is with that?” Gerard looked hurt and that had never been Frank’s intention. He thought Gerard would be glad that he stopped clinging to him and crying in front of him. He thought it would make Gerard _happy_ to be rid of his needy, unwanted roommate.

“I don’t want to bother you,” Frank mumbled, looking down at the bedspread.

“Why do you think it would bother me to answer texts _I send you?_ ”

“I don’t know,” Frank whispered. 

Gerard let out an exasperated sigh and rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t _get_ you. Now that you work with me you act all weird—like you’re better than me or something.”

“I don’t think I’m better than you,” Frank said, sitting up quickly and hoping Gerard would see how sincere he was. “I would _never_ think that.”

“So then why don’t you answer me?” Gerard asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Frank could tell by the passion in his eyes that this had been bothering Gerard for a while, he’d just kept quiet about it.

“I don’t want to bother you,” Frank repeated, his voice even meeker than before.

“But you’re not bothering me. The only thing bothering me is the fact that you don’t answer me. And you’re _still_ not. What the hell’s your problem?”

“Nothing,” Frank said, his breathing starting to come a little faster. The anger made him anxious and sick to his stomach. When Gerard started glaring at him, Frank’s composure broke and he gave in. He cared so much for Gerard—he couldn’t bear to have the man angry with him. “I just—I… I don’t… I, um…”

Frank continued to stammer, his heart pounding as he struggled to look Gerard in the eye. He didn’t want Gerard mad, but what else could he do? If he told Gerard the truth, Gerard would hate him even more—Gerard wouldn’t want to text him or talk to him let alone share a room with him. Frank didn’t want that hatred. He liked Gerard so much… It would kill him to have all that kindness turn to repulsion and disgust. 

“I don’t understand,” Gerard said, turning back around. “I buy you a dog, I get you a job, I listen to you whenever you have problems, but now you don’t even want to waste your time talking to me.”

“It’s not like that!—Please, Gerard, it’s really not. I just don’t want you to…to not like me anymore or—or be mad at me. _Please._ It’s not that I’m ungrateful. _Please_ don’t think that. Please.” Frank could already hear his mother’s voice in his mind, chiding him—insulting him. Calling him stupid and selfish, ungrateful and spoiled. 

“Okay. Fine. Then what _is_ it?”

Gerard turned back around and Frank stared at him—at his deep eyes and his perfect face. Even when he was angry, he was still beautiful to Frank. 

“I…I like you and I don’t…don’t want you mad.”

“Then why do you ignore me all the time?” Gerard said, his expression not changing. He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand that when Frank confessed that he liked him, what he really meant was love.

“You told me not to…to cling to people because I’m older, so—”

“Frank, you’ve never once _clung_ to me. I meant that specifically about _Mom._ I meant that about you and my _mother._ I never said I didn’t want you to _talk_ to me.”

“Gerard, I…” Frank wanted to tell him he misunderstood just to get that anger off of Gerard’s face, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He could handle misdirected rage—he had for most of his life—but he couldn’t stand the idea of Gerard knowing the truth and rejecting him because of it.

“Look, I know you’re trying to be more independent but it’s rude to just cut someone out like that.”

“It’s not about that,” Frank breathed, closing his eyes as he felt close to tears. He didn’t understand how Gerard had misunderstood him so badly.

“No? Because you don’t _talk_ to me anymore. At all, Frank.”

“Gerard, I… I don’t want you t-to hate me.”

“Why would I hate you? Come on. You know you’re my brother—you know I love you.”

Frank lowered his head, feeling the tears of shame rush him. Yes. Gerard was his _brother._ And any affection Frank could expect to get from him would be nothing more than what was felt between brothers. Frank had no chance with him. No chance at all... If he said anything about his feelings, he would just make Gerard hate him.

It was better to have Gerard hate him because of the misunderstanding, but it still hurt.

“Frank. Why do you think I’d hate you?”

“I don’t know,” Frank whispered.

“Frank. Come on. _Talk_ to me. You used to before we started working together. What the hell changed?”

“Nothing,” Frank said, keeping his head down. 

Gerard sighed in frustration and shook his head.

“You’re really starting to piss me off.”

Frank’s composure broke and he let out a soft sob. He didn’t want to be weak in front of Gerard. He wanted to be tougher and independent—be an adult like Gerard wanted him to be. But all he was doing was making Gerard angry with him and ensuring that Gerard would never like him any more than he had to to be an older brother.

“I just like you a lot,” Frank cried. “Please don’t be mad, Gerard. I didn’t mean to make you mad.” He couldn’t stand it. No matter what the reason. “I really just like you a lot.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand you,” Gerard said. Frank could hear him turning back around at his desk and it made him uncomfortable. He didn’t want Gerard to watch him cry. “Why are you crying?”

“Because you’re mad at me!” Frank said, covering his face with his hands. He was trying to gain some composure, but even his hands were shaking as he wiped his nose. 

“I just want you to tell me what’s going on with you. Before we started working together you talked to me all the time, now you just ignore me like I’m not good enough or something.”

“It’s nothing like that! I like you… I really, really like you,” Frank added in a soft, shaky whisper. 

“What?” Gerard asked, his tone strange. Frank managed to look up and catch the concerned, somewhat suspicious look on Gerard’s face and knew he hadn’t been misunderstood. Gerard knew now—his eyes were wide and his mouth hung open a little. 

“I-I… I don’t know,” Frank stammered, wanting immediately to take it back. 

Gerard didn’t seem to know what to say. He just sat there in silence, just _staring_ at Frank who cried in presence. Frank took a deep breath and made himself hold it in an attempt to get himself to stop crying. As soon as he seemed to have his composure, of course, Gerard just had to start talking—reminding Frank of his presence and making the tears come back.

“You…like me?”

Frank covered his face and moaned. He’d already said it once and he wasn’t going to humiliate himself by repeating it again and again.

“Frank… I’m your older brother.” He sounded disappointed and that just made Frank feel worse. It wasn’t the same as disgust, but somehow it hurt more. He would rather have Gerard repulsed by him—sickened at the sight of him the way Momma was—instead of having him disappointed, almost even _saddened_ by him. “I…I think you need to spend more time with…people your own age.”

Frank’s chest tightened, a piercing pain going straight through his ribcage. He _knew_ Gerard didn’t feel the same way, but he didn’t want to hear it out loud. He didn’t want Gerard to turn him away. It was so much better as a secret—at least then he didn’t have to feel so ashamed, so unworthy.

“Are you okay?” Gerard asked. 

Frank was too upset to answer, knowing if he tried to speak he would just burst out sobbing—incapable of explaining why it hurt so much. They’d been so close for months—Gerard held him at night when he was sad, said _everything_ right, and bought him gifts. He was so nice and gentle and _beautiful._ Frank wanted Gerard for himself even though he knew he was more than undeserving.

“I’m not mad…you know that, right?”

Frank nodded, keeping his face down and covered. He wished he could just disappear, but how immature would he look if he did the next best thing and buried himself under his blankets?

“Okay,” Gerard said gently before letting out a heavy sigh. “I’m gonna…give you a minute.” Frank heard him stand up and then listened to his footsteps on the stairs, leaving him completely alone.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank had avoided him most of the morning, but that was to be expected. Not only was the boy obviously ashamed of what he’d admitted the night before, but he was also helping Donna prepare their Thanksgiving dinner. He refused to go anywhere near the turkey, but he worked on everything else—constantly getting in Donna’s way although he never seemed to pick up on the irritation in her posture. Gerard could see it though; he noticed it right away. Not only was she stressed from the pressure of cooking for her own family as well as the relatives on their way, she could also tell that Frank was upset. When he wouldn’t tell her why, it just tried her patience. She couldn’t exactly yell at him or force him to tell her, so she had to suffer in silence—working alongside the brooding teenager who wouldn’t give her an inch of space. 

It was a recipe for disaster, but Gerard knew there was no helping it. He wasn’t about to intervene the way he might’ve before and ask Frank to come downstairs to play videogames or check out some of his sketches. He didn’t want to lead the boy on…

Gerard sighed heavily and leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen, watching his mother and Frank working. Mikey was hiding in his room, avoiding the tension and, of course, worming his way out of getting assigned chores.

Lucky, Gerard thought. He couldn’t bring himself to go back to his room and he knew there was no room for him to be working in the kitchen. He’d already snuck two beers and it wasn’t even twelve o’clock yet…and he was itching for another.

Having family over stressed him out—having his _mother_ stressed, stressed him out. Having Frank passing him embarrassed, sad looks every few minutes stressed him out…

He felt so bad for the kid. Frank was already anxious about meeting the other members of the family and he was trying so hard to bottle it up. It wasn’t like he could depend on Gerard anymore, was it?

Gerard sighed heavily, filling with more guilt. Unable to take much more, Gerard hurried over to the fridge and took out another beer.

“What are you doing?” His mother asked, not having to turn away from the food on the counter in order to tell what he was getting into. She could tell by the sound of the bottles clinking.

“Nothing,” Gerard said, picking up another bottle and taking both with him down to his bedroom.

“Don’t get wasted before they even show up,” his mother said, her voice fading away into nothing as Gerard curled up in bed. 

He started his third beer of the morning, drinking while staring at Frank’s bed. He didn’t really realize he was doing it for a long time—not until he caught himself thinking of that day on the stairs, when he’d come down from his shower to find Frank touching himself. It was an image branded into his brain that he tried to forget but couldn’t. It was probably the reason Gerard had let himself give into his impulses and run his fingers over Frank’s chest in the store…

_Damn_ that boy. 

Why did he have to go and say he liked him? Why couldn’t he have left it at _like_ instead of _really, really_ like? Frank couldn’t have possibly realized how damning those words were. It started to make Gerard feel more confident in his own feelings.

Maybe it _wasn’t_ wrong to have a crush on his cute, vulnerable, fucked up little foster brother if said sexy, dependent, confused boy felt the same way. 

Gerard groaned and slid further down in the bed, pulling his blanket up and around his shoulders. He tried to think back to how this had happened—how he’d let his affection for the boy get out of hand—but he couldn’t place a time or a day that it changed. He remembered thinking Frank was nothing but a thief, then he was just a pathetic kid with a had home life…then he was a victim. Then he was…attractive? 

He shook his head when he realized his third bottle of beer was empty and resisted the impulse to drink the fourth right away. It would be his reward when he figured out why the fuck he had a crush on a _kid._

But Frank _wasn’t_ a kid. Not really. He was _seventeen._ He was on the cusp of young adulthood… He still acted like a child sometimes, but not nearly as much as he used to. When he hadn’t been busy freaking out over sticking his hand up the boy’s shirt, he admired Frank after he fell from the shelf because he never complained about it. He didn’t throw a tantrum, he didn’t whine to Ray and Ellen that he’d hurt his ankle. He kept it to himself. 

Apparently he’d hurt himself several times while unloading the truck and had never complained about it. That made him mature right? That made him more of a grownup… 

Gerard moaned and cracked open the fourth bottle. Taking a long drink he let his mind go deeper.

When did it change? 

On his birthday… It had to have been his birthday. Frank had been so happy and Gerard had never seen anything so beautiful or wonderful. When he’d sat at the table and _cried_ because their dad was offering to get him his driver’s permit…that had been so beautiful. They were waiting for winter to pass before taking him out driving, mostly out of the fear that the icy roads might make him crash and a crash would _kill_ Frank even if he walked away uninjured, but Gerard could imagine how happy Frank would be when he did get his license.

Gerard wanted to be the one to teach him to drive.

He wanted Frankie alone in the car.

Gerard moaned again, louder and longer and took another drink. 

He was sick. He was _sick_ to be thinking this way about his _younger foster brother._ Frank was younger than Mikey! He should be _repulsed_ by that, not indifferent to it!

Did it make him _bad_ to like Frank back? Or did it make him bad to turn Frank away? He’d cried for _hours_ after that and Gerard had had to sit on the basement stairs listening—afraid to leave him alone because he didn’t want the boy to cut himself or hang himself in his sorrow. All he wanted was to go back down to him and take it back. 

Hearing Frank mutter to himself over and over that he was stupid and sick and sinful was torture. He wasn’t sick—it _wasn’t_ sin…and the boy was far from stupid. It killed Gerard to hear Frank chanting his mother’s cruel words as if they were some sort of mantra. But what was he supposed to do? Frank was his _brother._ Frank was _underage._

But that didn’t make him any less _attractive._ And he kept gaining weight and every pound he put on just made Gerard like him even more. He looked so soft—and Gerard knew now that his skin was soft… So, so soft. 

Before long, Gerard had finished his fourth bottle of beer, imagining what Frank’s lips would feel like pressed against his own, pressed against his neck, maybe a little bit lower—No!

No!

He was _not_ going to go there. _No._

Frank was a _kid._ Frank was _messed up._ The last thing he needed was to get involved with his older foster brother and risk ripping the family apart if they broke up. 

Gerard groaned and got up from his bed. He needed another beer.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank trembled as the strange woman hugged him, wanting her to let go and leave him alone but forcing on a smile so he wouldn’t offend anyone. He knew to expect at least four other people, but there were six and Frank just couldn’t handle that. Every time he would try to run away and hide down in his room, Donna would call for him and ask him to help stir a dish or put something into a different container. 

Two of the relatives visiting were from Don’s family, and the other four were members of Donna’s family. He felt more pressed to please them—knowing that if they disliked him then they might make Donna hate him as well—but he knew he’d never been good at meeting new people. 

Unable to go into his bedroom because Gerard was down there drinking—apparently more intimidated by the guests than Frank—Frank had hidden in Mikey’s room with him for the half hour before the guests arrived but Donna made him come down as soon as they all showed up at the door. 

He tried to stay out of the way, but Donna made him come out from the stairwell and showed him off. An older woman—Donna’s older sister it turned out—started hugging Frank and wouldn’t let go. She kept cooing at Frank that she’d heard so much about him. Though Frank typically enjoyed affection and positive attention, he didn’t care at all for the kisses being pressed his temple and cheeks by the strange woman. 

Zoe was interested in the strangers in her own, passive way. She came into the room and sniffed at the woman’s legs—finally getting her to release Frank.

“I thought you hated dogs!” The woman said to Donna.

“It’s Frank’s. Gerard bought it for him. It’s a hairball really. I’ve swept this house three times already today and there’s still hair everywhere.”

“Oh, I don’t think it’s that bad,” the woman said, kneeling down to pet Zoe who sniffed her and then walked away.

When Frank followed her with his eyes, he spotted Gerard watching him from the doorway of the kitchen and his stomach tightened with nerves. 

He didn’t have long to stare, however. Donna introduced him to the others who’d come with her sister and a little while later Don’s family arrived. The woman—Gerard and Mikey’s paternal grandmother—started fussing over Frank as much as Donna’s sister had but her hug was at least brief. The men, Donna’s brother as well as her brother-in-law and then Don’s father and his brother, had little interest in Frank and he appreciated that. Introductions were short and almost immediately after Don’s parents arrived, the meal was served.

Almost as fast, Frank was forgotten about. 

He sat beside Mikey at the dinner table with Donna at his side and Gerard across from him. It made him feel safe to have people he knew on every side of him, but it was uncomfortable to have Gerard looking at him the entire meal. Not that Gerard was really focused on him…he had at least a six pack of beer before dinner had even started, and once the food was on the table he’d switched to drinking wine. 

“You ought to slow down a bit,” his grandfather told him, laughing and tipping his own wine glass in Gerard’s direction. 

Frank wondered if there was some sort of tension between Gerard and the other man because Gerard merely hummed in response and then poured himself another glass. 

The adults of the family all started talking together about things Frank was too out of the loop to understand—gossip about some guy named Jack, his daughter Karen… Frank would’ve been bored out of his mind if not for the good food and the unending anxiety that came from having Gerard sitting across from him. 

Gerard who had finished at least a bottle of wine on his own and stood up from the table to go grab another. While he was gone, Donna’s sister muttered something which Frank only caught the second half of.

“…been a lot different since Mom died.”

“Yes,” Donna said, her expression suddenly becoming grave. “He has.” 

Frank kept his head down so Donna wouldn’t know he was eavesdropping—if that’s what it could be considered since he was sat at the same table—but he still felt her eyes on him. 

“Our grandma died last year,” Mikey said, leaning over toward Frank and whispering it. 

“You never told me,” Frank said, thinking back to the last school year. 

“I didn’t want to talk about it,” Mikey muttered. 

Frank let the conversation drop, looking up as Gerard returned to the table. He had a fresh bottle of red wine in hand as well as a completely filled wine glass. 

“You should try some of this,” Gerard said suddenly, handing the over-flowing glass to Frank who took it merely to keep it from spilling into the bowl of mashed potatoes between them. 

Frank looked over to Donna, but the woman was staring down at her own plate, mumbling to her sister about their mother. 

“Try it,” Gerard repeated, sitting down and scooting his chair closer to the table. 

“Oh, go ahead,” Don said, smiling at Frank and nodding. Suddenly, Don’s entire side of the family was looking at him and nodding, grinning like Cheshire cats until Frank took a sip, found the drink bitter, and handed the glass back to Gerard. 

“Don’t like wine?” Gerard asked.

“It’s…bitter,” Frank said. 

For some reason that made Gerard start laughing, his face turning even redder than it already was from the booze. 

“You’ve had enough,” Donna said, reaching past her sister to grab the bottle out from in front of Gerard who merely grabbed his wine glass and took a sip. 

“You should pour some for Frank,” Gerard said, laughing still.

“Frank doesn’t _need_ a drink,” Donna said, not at all humored. 

“Aw, but we need—we need to get him to like it. He needs to like wine.” Gerard giggled and brought a hand to his face, wiping at his red cheeks as if he could rub the heat away.

“No he does not. Stop. Drink some water—Don, get him some water.”

“I don’t want _water,”_ Gerard complained, scoffing at the idea and holding his wineglass protectively close to his chest as if someone might try to steal it from him. 

“Then just be quiet,” Donna said. Frank had never seen her act so stern and it made him uncomfortable. He started squirming in his seat, wishing he could escape but only working to draw more attention to himself.

“So, Frank, do you have a girlfriend at school?” Donna’s sister asked, smiling at him in a strange, endearing way.

“No,” Frank answered, shaking his head.

“No? Well—you’ll have to start looking for one. Isn’t prom coming up?”

“Prom is in the spring,” Mikey interjected, obviously annoyed by the conversation. 

“Have you got a date?” His aunt asked him.

Mikey made a noncommittal sound and shrugged. He was making progress with the girl in his English class, but it was going slow. His aunt started talking to him about how great prom should be and how terrible hers had been—and then entire time, Frank felt Gerard’s eyes on him though he wouldn’t look up from his plate to see.

Why was Gerard staring like that? What was he thinking about? He was obviously drunk… Was he thinking hateful things? Whenever his mother had drank in the past, she would beat him that much worse. Alcohol made people angry and made bad things happen.

Frank hoped Gerard wouldn’t get inspired by the talk of relationship and prom and blurt out that Frank liked boys—liked _Gerard_ in particular. 

But it didn’t happen. Gerard kept drinking his wine, stole the bottle back from his mother, finished it, and then went down to his room as dinner came to an end. Frank helped Donna clear the table while the men and guests went into the living room to watch television. 

Once most of the plates and dishes were washed, Donna went into the living room as well. Frank followed her at first, but having so many people in one room made him nervous. He was afraid they would try to talk to him and that he would say something wrong, offend Donna and get himself kicked out.

Family get-togethers with his mother and grandmother always ended badly for him. He always said the wrong thing and his mother would whip him and his grandmother would scream at him. The first time his mother ever struck him between the legs as punishment had happened at his grandmother’s house in Pennsylvania. He didn’t like meeting relatives…

Frank took the chance to sneak out of the living room. He tried to get Zoe to follow him, but Don was feeding her peanuts from a can to show off her tricks for the relatives and she had little interest in Frank. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard’s head was spinning and he knew lying in bed wasn’t going to help, but sitting up made him feel sick. He wanted to go upstairs and seek out more booze, but he was almost positive he’d drank it all—everything except the whiskey and he wasn’t about to start doing shots. 

He sighed and rolled onto his back, the change in position making him nauseous again. When someone started coming down the stairs, it took him a few moments to understand what the sound was. Then he saw Frank and his stomach gave a pleasant flutter for the first time in what felt like hours and he started smiling.

Mentally he cursed at himself, wanting to get that stupid grin off his face, but he couldn’t fight it. Frank was cute—all well-fed and uncertain. He was looking at Gerard almost anxiously and sat down on his bed. 

“Hey,” Gerard said, giggling once the word was out. 

_Way to play it cool._

“Hi,” Frank whispered, chewing his bottom lip. 

“Hey,” Gerard repeated, bursting with laughter and rolling onto his side to better face Frank. 

“You’re drunk,” Frank said. It wasn’t an accusation—he almost sounded scared. It was enough to get the smile off of Gerard’s face, at least.

“Yeah…”

“You shouldn’t…drink.”

“You got drunk,” Gerard said, his demeanor immediately changing when Frank started judging him. “You got _pissed_ drunk and _I…_ I had to change your clothes!” 

Part of him knew that was supposed to be a secret, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t going to let Frank sit there and judge him for being drunk when he was the one who’d passed out and pissed all over himself after binge drinking at a party. 

“What?” Frank looked at Gerard in the face, mortified. 

“You—Yeah, you… All high and might. ‘Oh, you shouldn’t drink!’ _You_ got so drunk you fuckin’….made me have to change your clothes.”

He couldn’t say it. Frank already looked so sad. Gerard didn’t want to make him cry.

“You… You told me I did it—you said…” His eyes were wide and terrified. 

“Don’t worry—I didn’t look,” Gerard lied, waving his hand dismissively. “Don’t wanna—I don’t wanna be a creep.”

Frank looked a little relived, but not entirely convinced. 

“Frankie… Why are you looking at me like that?” Gerard asked, tired of having the boy sitting there and staring. If he was going to stare, he could at least sit on Gerard’s bed and do it. At least then Gerard could reach him and touch his face—touch his soft skin and play with the weight on his hips. 

“I don’t know…”

“I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“I hope not,” Frank said, forcing out a huff of a laugh—trying to act humored to cover his discomfort. 

“Nah—I won’t hurt you. You’re cute. Did you know that?—That you’re cute?” Gerard started laughing again and covered his face. Every time he looked at Frank, that was his first thought. This boy is cute. He was cute, and pudgy, and soft. “Come here,” Gerard said, reaching out for Frank and wishing his arms could grow longer and reach Frank where he sat on the opposite bed. 

“No,” Frank said.

“Why?” Gerard asked, giggling even though he tried to make himself look sad so Frank might be convinced.

“Why do you want me to?”

“Why don’t you want to?”

“Because you’re drunk!” Frank said.

“Yeah—but I’m a happy drunk. I won’t hurt you.” 

Frank started to look like he were considering moving closer and that filled Gerard with pride.

“Why do you want me to come over there?” Frank asked.

“Because I want to hug you.”

“Why?”

“Uh—because I like you and I’m drunk.”

Frank let out a low groan and stood up. He hesitated a moment, but when Gerard kept smiling at him, the boy finally came over and sat down on the very edge of the bed. 

Rather than wrapping him up in his arms like he wanted to, Gerard waited. He wanted to prove he could be patient—maybe more so to himself than to Frank. 

“Hey,” he said, reaching over to merely poke Frank’s leg.

“What?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“Talk to me?”

“About yesterday,” Gerard said, grimacing in a comical way to show that he was uncomfortable about what happened too.

“We don’t have to. I’m…I’m sorry I said that stuff. I was just…”

“Shhh,” Gerard said, poking and scratching at Frank’s leg with his finger. “I like you too, Frank.”

“Because you’re…you’re drunk.”

“Because you’re cute.”

Frank started blushing and Gerard giggled at him. The boy said nothing, so embarrassed and shy. 

“Gerard, you’re…drunk. You don’t mean that.” Frank started to stand up and Gerard snagged the hem of his shirt, keeping him trapped.

“Frankie—you’re cute. I wanna hug you. Come here.”

“No,” Frank protested, pulling away a little. 

“Why?”

“Because you don’t like me like that!” Frank snapped, standing up fast and going to his own bed. “You _don’t!_ No one does.”

“Frankie…”

“Stop! You’re just drunk.”

“Drunk doesn’t make you do things you don’t want,” Gerard said, rolling his eyes. “I like you—I tell you this _because I’m drunk_ and I don’t _care_ that I’m not supposed to like you.”

Frank said nothing, just sat on his bed staring down at his hands.

“Frank… I’ve liked you since…a while.”

“Since a while? Yeah…” Frank was mocking him again and Gerard didn’t like that.

“I like you so much I think about you _all_ the time. I stand at work and I think about you…I wanna touch you.”

“What?” Frank asked, head snapping up.

“Wanna touch you… Frankie? Come here. Come back.”

“Why?”

“Baby…”

Frank’s face turned dark red, but he stood up and crept nervously over to Gerard’s bed. 

“Sit down,” Gerard said. Frank obeyed, sitting a little closer to Gerard.

“You’re really drunk,” Frank whispered.

“Yeah,” Gerard answered, forcing himself to sit up despite the pang of nausea that struck him. “I wanna talk.”

“Okay.”

“Why do you like me?” Gerard asked, fussing to get his pillow in the right position to support his back as he leaned against the headboard.

“I don’t know.”

“Then you don’t actually like me,” Gerard said, starting to feel disappointed. 

“Because you’re nice to me,” Frank added, as if picking up on Gerard’s disappointment. “And…you’re funny and you…you listen to me and—”

“You’re cute,” Gerard interrupted, unable to take all the compliments without deflecting them—without sending them back to Frank. 

“Why do you keep saying that? I’m not.”

“Frankie, you’re tan, you’re small, you’re _chubby._ I love that about you.” As he said it, Gerard sat up and wrapped his arms around Frank, squeezing him. He let out a pleased sigh, as if he were hugging the softest pillow in the world, and let his head rest on Frank’s shoulder. 

“I… I really do like you a lot,” Frank whispered, giving in. “I’m not confused.”

“Mm. I like you a lot,” Gerard repeated, letting one of his hands slide down Frank’s side. The boy shivered but didn’t pull away, giving Gerard all the incentive he needed to bring that hand lower—resting it against his hip—and then raising it, lifting the hem of Frank’s shirt as he slid his palm over Frank’s side. 

Frank started biting his lip, his eyes looking conflicted as Gerard slowly lifted his hand higher and higher. Just as he was about to brush his fingers over Frank’s nipple, the boy flinched and started pulling away. Rather than forcing him, Gerard let him go, pulling away altogether. Let him see what he was missing and come back for more.

He would. Gerard knew he would.

“Frank…”

Upstairs, Gerard could hear his family members laughing and talking loudly. They were all so preoccupied. No one was going to come check up on them.

Frank looked down at him, breathing a little shakily. 

“You like me?” Frank asked, fidgeting as he moved to sit cross-legged on the bed. 

“Yeah. I do,” Gerard said, shrugging and then giggling. He was going to be in so much trouble tomorrow morning—not only was he bound to have a hangover, he was going to have to handle Frankie. 

The responsible thing would be to let him go, kiss him on the cheek and tell him to go lay down and let Gerard sleep off the liquor. But Gerard didn’t want to be responsible. He wanted to get that sadness out of Frank’s eyes. He wanted to make the boy stop whining about sin and shame. 

“Come here,” Gerard said, opening his arms. Frank stared at him but not for long. He quickly scooted closer and wrapped his arms around Gerard’s waist. 

The responsible thing would be to let the hug be a hug—to hold the boy like he always did when he had a rough day or made an attempt to take his own life. But Gerard didn’t want to be responsible. As soon as Frank’s arms were around him, Gerard took the opportunity and pressed his lips to the boy’s neck and put his hands on the boy’s hips, his fingers under Frank’s shirt. 

Frank shuddered, gasping into Gerard’s ear as Gerard started to suck on his skin. He was careful not to leave a mark, knowing even in his drunken stupor that his mother would beat the shit out of him if she found out he’d touched her precious Frankie. Slowly, he slid his hands up higher and higher, exposing Frank’s stomach—though their chests were nearly pressed together—and then running the pads of his thumbs over both of Frank’s nipples at once.

Frank gasped and pulled back. Gerard let him go, knowing that holding him or pinning him could make him feel trapped. Gerard didn’t want to scare him—he wanted Frank to come to him, to feel lust and take it without the shame, without having to call it “the bad thing.”

“Why do you keep doing that?” Frank asked.

“Doesn’t it feel good?” Gerard asked.

Frank worked his jaw, struggling to find the words but unable to come up with anything. He started blushing and Gerard reached for him again. Frank moved closer when Gerard pulled him by his hips, and even let Gerard strip off his shirt after a few more minutes of Gerard kissing and licking his throat. 

He was shaking, though, and that made Gerard nervous. He hoped he wasn’t scared, and that he didn’t feel trapped without a choice in what happened to him. He wanted Frank to feel safe. 

“You’re really sexy,” Gerard whispered, running his hands over Frank’s hips, feeling his soft skin. 

“Did you…grab me on purpose at the store?” Frank asked when Gerard flicked his thumb over one of his nipples again. 

“I was tryin’ to you catch you,” Gerard said, unwilling to admit that he’d been trying to use the situation to cop a feel. He attached his lips to Frank’s neck again and started sucking, pretending he didn’t notice that the boy’s hips were starting to roll forward, seeking something to press against. It made him smirk though, but Frank couldn’t see—not with his head tilted back and his eyes closed. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank couldn’t keep his thoughts in order. He knew the facts—that he was stupid, Gerard was drunk, and that all he wanted in the world was to be sinful. Whenever he came to his senses and tried to get away, Gerard had a horrible ability to reel him right back in. As soon as he felt Gerard’s hot mouth close around one of his nipples, Frank gave up. He wasn’t going to be getting away. He couldn’t. He needed more. 

“You’re so sensitive,” Gerard said, giggling again. He seemed to think this whole thing was funny—that or he was really just that happy. “I bet I know something you’d like.”

“Wh-what?” Frank asked, already knowing what Gerard meant and immediately tensing up at the idea. 

He remembered the time he’d been with Kyle…Kyle who had filmed him. Kyle who had promised to return the favor but, of course, hadn’t. All Frank had thought about that night and the early hours of the next morning was what Kyle’s mouth might feel like around him. Then, when he’d started falling for Gerard, he just wanted to know what _Gerard’s_ mouth would feel like.

But he wasn’t the same as he had been back then. He was damaged now, and ugly—and if Gerard kept going he was going to find that out. He was going to see the hideous scars and marks. He would probably throw up at the sight, too, since he was drunk and all.

Frank started pulling away and, like always, Gerard let him go.

“What, Baby?” Gerard asked, blinking slowly and leaning back against the headboard.

Frank started looking around for his shirt, but Gerard had tossed it too far away. 

“Frank…”

“We… I-I can’t.”

“Mm, why?”

“Because… I-I don’t want to.”

“I’m not gonna go all the way,” Gerard said, leaning forward and kissing Frank’s neck again.

The kiss turned into a gentle lick, the licking turned into sucking. Frank started moaning again and scooted back over to Gerard—only this time Gerard’s hands weren’t content to just rub at his sides. Gerard pulled Frank into his lap, making his erection rub up against Frank’s sin through the fabric of their jeans. 

In no time at all, Gerard had worked his mouth down Frank’s neck to lick and suck his nipple instead. His other hand came up to stroke and pinch Frank’s other nipple until Frank couldn’t handle any more. He started grinding against Gerard’s hips, needing the friction—needing the closeness. More than anything he wanted Gerard to touch him there, but to do that Gerard would have to expose him—and then he’d see. 

No matter how good the touches felt, Frank couldn’t let Gerard see him there. Gerard would be repulsed. Gerard would hate him. Push him away. Maybe hit him.

Frank moaned when Gerard’s teeth grazed his nipple. He could feel Gerard’s fingers slowly raking down his stomach, making his muscles quiver. Gerard reached his jeans and before Frank could stop gasping and moaning long enough to protest, he’d undone the button and zipper of his jeans. 

“P-Please don’t,” Frank choked out, hardly sounding like he meant the words as Gerard’s hand slipped into his jeans and wrapped around him—touching him in a way no one else ever had. As Gerard started stroking him, he kept his mouth attached to Frank’s nipple, circling it with his tongue.

Frank guessed that as long as Gerard’s mouth was focused on his chest, then he wouldn’t look down and see. But the fear was still there—he didn’t want Gerard to see. He didn’t want pushed away. He didn’t want this to ever _stop._

Carefully, Frank reached one his hands forward, sliding past Gerard’s arms in order to touch the older man between the legs. _Immediately,_ Gerard looked down and Frank gasped, unable to really pull away when Gerard’s hand was wrapped around his length. 

“What are you doing?” Gerard asked, as if he really didn’t understand.

“I was…g-going to—” Frank started squirming backwards when Gerard let go of him. He quickly placed his hand between his legs to hide himself before Gerard could see, and then watched as Gerard started undoing his own jeans. 

This was all happening too fast, Frank realized as Gerard’s cock sprung into view. He stared at it—the subject of too many sick, sinful fantasies—and then felt Gerard’s hand on his wrist, pulling it toward him. 

They hadn’t even kissed on the mouth yet and yet his hand was now being wrapped around Gerard’s erection. Moments later, Gerard’s mouth was on his neck again and the man started stroking him. Frank was helpless against the sensations coursing through him. He tried to give Gerard pleasure, but his hand kept stopping its motions when the feelings got to be too much. 

When Gerard lowered his head and gently bit Frank’s nipple, that was the end of thing—Frank came, his mind went white and the only thought in his head was _Sin._

This was sin. He was sinning. And sinning felt so _good._

Frank slumped forward, shaking too hard to support his own weight or get his hand to start moving again to give Gerard pleasure. In turn, Gerard pushed Frank’s hand out from between their bodies and started stroking himself, constantly breathing sinful words into Frank’s ear. 

He told Frank he was sexy and cute. Told him he was perfect and that he’d been so good. 

Frank stayed with his head rested against Gerard’s shoulder, trying to catch his breath. Slowly, the stars stopped flashing behind his eyes and Frank tilted his head enough to press his lips to Gerard’s neck. He started kissing and sucking Gerard’s throat the way Gerard had been doing for him. It was enough to get Gerard moaning again, but it was still a long time before the touches of his own hand was enough to get him off. 

Frank didn’t know how to react when he felt Gerard’s seed splash against his stomach. Immediately he felt dirty, sinful in all the _bad_ ways. He remembered how Kyle had treated him afterwards and was scared that Gerard was about to do the same—to push him away and say “thanks, see you next time.” After all, Gerard still hadn’t formally kissed him…

When Gerard had finished, Frank quickly pulled away and tucked himself back into his jeans before Gerard could see him. Gerard, who had slumped over onto the bed, stared at Frank and watched him with hazy eyes. 

“Come here,” Gerard said softly. 

Frank didn’t fight. The last thing he wanted was to be alone now, so when Gerard called him, Frank hurried back to his side. Gerard gestured for him to lie down beside him, which Frank did, using the blankets beneath him to wipe the seed off of his stomach and chest. 

They lie side by side, Gerard staring Frank in the eye while Frank, unable to look at him for too long, glanced at the wall. 

“Frank?”

“Hm?”

“I love you,” Gerard said. He was still drunk and his words were slurred. Frank wanted to believe him, but didn’t know if he could. If he believed him and it turned out to be a lie—an excuse to keep Frank quiet so Donna wouldn’t get mad—it would break his heart. Frank didn’t want to be hurt anymore, and to believe him would be to open himself up for that pain. 

Gerard reached out and stroked Frank’s hair, then leaned forward for a kiss. Frank happily returned it, trying to show Gerard the things Kyle had taught him by opening his mouth. Gerard pulled away though, keeping the kiss chaste and Frank’s spirits sank.

“You’re really cute,” Gerard said, sighing and blinking sleepily. He draped an arm over Frank’s bare side and pulled him close, making as if to go to sleep. 

Frank wished Gerard had something else to tell him…and that he could keep his eyes open. Knowing that Donna or someone else would eventually come downstairs to find them, Frank pulled away and got up from the bed, looking for his shirt again. 

Gerard kept groaning until Frank, with his shirt back in place, returned to him and curled up beside him, his back pressing against Gerard’s chest. The man still hadn’t put himself away or zipped his jeans and Frank hoped that if Donna came downstairs, she wouldn’t see. 

She couldn’t know. 

She would hate him if she knew.

Immediately, Frank felt the regret coursing through him. It swallowed all of his happy feelings and left him close to tears. He remembered now why sin was wrong—why pleasure was bad. How had he been so stupid? How had he let himself get caught up in the touches? 

“Baby?” Gerard asked, holding Frank close and nuzzling his shoulder blades.

“What?” Frank asked, blushing immediately at the affectionate name. He wanted it to stay this way. He didn’t want Gerard to go to sleep and wake up repulsed.

“I love you.”

“I…I love you too,” Frank answered, wishing what Gerard said were true. He felt safe here, with Gerard’s arms around him, holding him close. He wanted to stay safe, to stay loved and coveted. 

Frank closed his eyes and prayed hard for God to forgive him. He knew he had sinned and he was sorry, but he prayed, too, for Gerard to be true to him. It was a sick relationship, even though it was currently nothing but a fling—no different than what he and Kyle had done—band it was sinful and bad, but Frank wanted it. He wanted it more than anything.


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes: Someone with very bad self-control.
> 
> Also, an anon asked me on my last chapter why (Mama) is in parentheses and not just on its own for the title. Awesome question! I made it a parenthetical since, although his mother isn't always in the fic, she's always going to be playing a part on Frank's life--mentally, emotionally, physically, etc. She's the underlying factor in why he acts the way he does, and most of his antics are because of her.

_Chapter 38_

Something was wrong with Frank. Donna couldn’t say what, but there was something…off about him when he came upstairs to say goodbye to their guests. He was shaky and wouldn’t look anyone in the eye. He didn’t seem sad or scared… He was just _off._

After everyone left, Frank went upstairs to use the bathroom and Donna took her chance to sneak down to his and Gerard’s room to confront her son. If Gerard, in his drunken state, had said something to hurt the boy’s feelings, she was going to smack the shit out of him. 

But when she got to their room, Gerard was covered in his blankets completely blacked out. She tried shaking him, but he didn’t even make a sound. Donna looked around as if expecting to find a letter or a drawing—anything that might give her a clue—but there was nothing.

Then Frank stepped back into the room with Zoe and asked her what was wrong. 

“Are you okay?” She asked, hoping that he wouldn’t just shrug and say he was fine. He obviously wasn’t and if something had happened to upset him, she wanted to fix it. 

“I’m…fine,” Frank said, fidgeting and scratching one of his arms. 

“Really? Because you don’t look fine.” She went over to him and felt his forehead, wondering if he was just falling ill. It _was_ getting cold out… Nothing apparent had happened during dinner, so perhaps he was just getting sick. He did feel a bit feverish, but it didn’t seem serious. What concerned her was that Frank pulled away from her touch when he was usually desperate to get closer to her and win more affection. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Frank said, going to his bed and patting it so Zoe would jump up. He petted her head and kissed her on the nose, but didn’t even smile when she licked him. 

“Frank…”

“I don’t feel good, Mom,” Frank said, his tone neither inviting nor dismissive. All Donna had to go on was that he’d called her mom—something he only ever did when he was excited or nervous. Frank sank down onto his bed and wrapped his arms around Zoe who kept nosing at his ear and face. 

“Why don’t you feel good?—Did Gerard sneak more beer down here?” She asked, irritation flooding her. It would be _just_ like Gerard to get depressed and start dragging the younger boy down with him, pouring alcohol down his throat until Frank was as sad as he was. “How much did you drink?” She asked.

“Nothing,” Frank said. He looked at her, hurt, and then closed his eyes and held Zoe tighter. 

“So then what’s wrong?”

“Nothing…”

Donna sighed heavily and looked around the room, not sure whether to sit beside him on the bed and make him spit it out, or if she should give him his space. 

“Frank… Did having relatives over upset you?” She asked, not wanting to leave him like this. If he was having another one of his bad nights, Gerard wasn’t awake to watch him and keep him from hurting himself. 

“No,” Frank said, shaking his head. “No—It’s nothing like that. They were nice.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“Yeah…” He continued cuddling his dog, unwilling or unable to talk about what was bothering him.

“Are you going to hurt yourself if I leave you down here and go to bed?”

“No, Mom,” Frank answered. 

“You sure? You don’t sound very convincing.”

“I’m sure. I’m not… I’m not sad.”

“Really?”

_“Really._ I don’t want to bother you…”

“Frank, you’re not _bothering_ me when you tell me what’s wrong. I care about you—I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He looked… _defeated._ She tried and tried for close to half an hour, but he refused to say what was wrong. He just curled up in bed with his day clothes on and Zoe at his feet and made to go to sleep. In the end, Donna gave up and turned out the light for him, leaving him to sleep when she knew that she wouldn’t sleep at all. She prayed to God that the boy would still be breathing in the morning.

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard had had the most _wonderful_ dream. Absolutely _perfect._ He’d gotten Frankie right where he wanted him, moaning and squirming in his lap. The boy never even said the word sin—he just groaned and moaned and arched his back. He even tried to reciprocate the pleasurable touches, but he was so caught up in his own bliss that he just couldn’t manage it. He’d been _perfect._ Just like all of Gerard’s other dreams and fantasies. So shy and inexperienced. Whiny and needy. He was perfect.

Gerard loved him so much.

It pained him when he had to open his eyes and kiss the dream goodbye—and kiss his hangover good morning. 

Gerard whined and rolled over onto his back, covering his eyes even though there was only a small beam of light coming into the room. It took him a long time to manage to open his eyes, and as soon as he did the nausea struck him. 

Why in the hell had he drank so much? Two bottles of wine? A six pack of beer? Was he _fucking_ stupid?

He got so out of control when he drank, too. He couldn’t remember doing anything too horrible though. He was lucky he’d only dreamed about Frankie instead of _actually_ making a pass at the boy. 

The nausea got even worse and Gerard had no choice but to throw off his blankets and fumble onto his feet. He was going to puke. 

He stumbled half way up the stairs before he even realized that his pants were sagging around his hips and that his dick was hanging out. 

“What the fuck?” He tried to resituate himself, but he started gagging and had to give up. Hopefully it was early and no one would be in the kitchen to watch him puke with his pants down.

He barely made it to the trashcan in time, and when he did reach it, he knocked it over. He had to puke into it while lying halfway on the floor, unable to set it back upright. 

It felt like hours before his stomach finally stopped clenching and he was able to get back on his feet. He righted the trashcan and then neared the sink. It turned on the faucet and started ringing his mouth, slightly put off by the taste of the water he had cupped in his hands. Only then did he remember his pants and underwear clinging to his thighs and pulled them up.

Apparently that awesome dream had been a wet dream…and apparently he’d jerked himself off in his sleep and still had dry sperm all fucking over his palms.

It was enough to make him want to start puking again, but there was nothing left. He made himself ignore the disgust he was feeling and washed his hands before finishing rinsing his mouth. 

In the horribly bright lights of the kitchen, Gerard looked down his front, examining his disheveled clothes. Not only had there been sperm on his hands, it was also spattered all over his shirt.

“Oh, fuck.” Gerard’s eyes went wide. 

In his dream, Frank had been in his lap and had cum on his chest—on his shirt. If he’d somehow gotten his pants down and jerked himself off _in his sleep,_ the evidence wouldn’t be on his shirt halfway down his chest.

“Oh _shit._ Shit!” Panic struck him fast and he sank down onto the floor, his legs shaking. He started biting his lip, but even that pain couldn’t distract him from the horror.

It wasn’t a dream. It _hadn’t_ been a dream. He’d gotten with Frankie. He’d messed around with his _younger_ foster brother—on _Thanksgiving!_ With _relatives_ just upstairs!

Gerard couldn’t believe it. How in the hell had he gotten _that_ drunk!? How could he _let_ himself put Frank through that!? 

The kid was suicidal! Now he’d been _raped_ by the guy he was supposed to trust! Even if Frank consented, he was till underage. He _couldn’t_ consent. Gerard had proven himself to be no better than a pedophile!

“Shit, shit… Oh, fuck. _Fuck!_ ” Gerard shouted it, realizing it was a bad idea when his headache returned to the forefront of his mind. “God. Oh, God.”

“Gerard?”

Gerard froze, horrified when he recognized Frank’s voice from the basement stairwell behind him.

“Are you okay?” Frank was coming closer.

Gerard was absolutely paralyzed. How was he supposed to act now? He couldn’t ignore Frank. He couldn’t push him away. He couldn’t even tell Frank it had been a mistake and that it never should’ve happened. The _kid_ was suicidal. 

If he’d gotten his hopes up that they were going to be together—which he must have if he’d let Gerard get so close to him the night before—he would be devastated to have that taken away. 

Frank was sitting on the floor next to him now. Gerard had to say something—had to _think_ of something to say quick.

“Gerard?”

“Hey—Ugh, I’m just…hungover. Are you okay?” Gerard turned to look at him but couldn’t find a smile to offer him. 

“Yeah.” He didn’t look okay at all, and Gerard felt so guilty. 

“Um… So—So last night was…” Was what? _Fun?_ Exciting? _A huge fucking mistake?_

“G-Gerard, um…” Frank was already starting to cry and Gerard hated himself for this. “If…If you don’t like me that’s—that’s okay. I…I-I’m used to it, you know?” 

He was trying to _smile._ He was trying to fake a smile and he was crying as he did it.

Gerard couldn’t _stand_ to see him cry. 

“Why do you think I don’t like you?” Gerard said, wishing he weren’t so hungover. Then maybe he could come up with words—maybe then he’d know the right thing to say.

Frank shrugged. 

“Frank—I like you.”

“Like me,” Frank mumbled, looking down. 

_Shit._ He’d said ‘love’ last night, hadn’t he?

“Frank—”

“It’s okay,” Frank interjected, forcing a smile as he tried to hold back tears. “I’m g-gonna go take a shower before Donna wakes up.” He stood up quickly, evading it when Gerard tried to grab for him. 

“Wait—Frank, wait! I can’t _chase_ you. I’m hungover—come here.”

It surprised him when Frank actually listened and turned around. He didn’t come any closer though. He just stood halfway through the living room and looked back at Gerard. 

“Baby…come here,” Gerard said, keeping his voice gentle. Frank slowly walked back to him and returned to his place next to him on the floor. “Why do you think I don’t like you?” 

“Because I’m annoying? I don’t know…” He stared at the floor as he spoke and shrugged. 

“You’re not annoying,” Gerard said.

Frank continued staring at the floor in silence, one of his fingers tracing the outlines of the tiles on the floor. 

“I love you,” Gerard said. He knew they needed to have a discussion—needed to talk about why what happened _shouldn’t_ have happened no matter how either of them felt—but he couldn’t stand seeing Frank so upset. He was just a kid. He didn’t understand that their feelings for each other didn’t matter. It was illegal. It was manipulative. It was _wrong._ Gerard was honestly surprised that Frank had gone through with it considering how obsessed he was with being good and avoiding _sin._

“You don’t have to like me,” Frank said, faking that smile again. 

“Kid, you need some self-confidence,” Gerard said, his headache and Frank’s stubbornness getting to him. “I’m not going to lie to you about whether I like you or not. Did I like you when we first met? No. Do I like you now? Yeah—a lot. So stop beating yourself up. I like you—I _love_ you. That’s the end of it.”

“Are you sure?” Frank asked, scooting a little closer on the floor.

“Yeah.” Gerard flashed him a brief smile but Frank just stared at him. “I’d kiss you, but I just threw up for like…an hour, so…”

“Okay,” Frank said, looking over at the trashcan that was still on its side. Gerard was honestly surprised nothing was spilling out…he guessed he was just that lucky. 

Frank stood up after another moment and stood the trashcan back upright. He then opened the cupboard to get a glass and filled it with water. 

“Here.” Frank handed it to him and Gerard readily accepted it, drinking the entire thing in just a few gulps before handing the glass back. The water made him nauseous again at first, but Gerard knew he needed to rehydrate so he refused to succumb to the impulse to grab the trashcan again and start heaving. 

Frank filled the glass for him again and Gerard drank this one a little more slowly, still sitting on the floor while Frank stood beside him.

“Ugh, why’d you let me drink so much?” Gerard asked, looking at Frank and pouting. 

“I don’t tell you what to do,” Frank said.

“You should. From now on, you gotta tell me when to stop.” He was hoping that if he teased for a bit, Frank would become more relaxed. It seemed to be working. Maybe just a little. Frank, at least, didn’t appear to be taking it seriously.

“I’m not your mom. I don’t tell you what to do.”

“Well, as of last night, you kind of have express permission to tell me everything you want me to do,” Gerard said, groaning through the words as he stumbled onto his feet. 

“Like blackmail?” Frank mumbled.

“Yeah—only not. Because, although I don’t really _want_ you telling people what happened, I can’t stop you. I’m not gonna threaten you.”

“Why don’t you want anyone to know?”

“Because it’s _illegal,_ Frank. You’re underage _and_ you’re my foster brother.”

“It’s not incest.”

“It’s still statutory rape.”

“But we didn’t…”

“There was sex stuff happening—it doesn’t matter if we went all the way or not.”

“Does that mean we…we won’t…anymore?”

“I don’t know… No?” Gerard head hurt too much to be having this conversation right now. “We’ll need to talk to later about…this.”

“We don’t have to,” Frank said, looking down at the floor. To him, talking about it was synonymous with ending it. “I’m going to go shower.”

Without going back downstairs to get pajamas, Frank hurried out of the room and upstairs. Gerard sighed heavily and rubbed his face with his free hand, still holding the glass of water in the other. This was going to be a long fucking day.

( ) ( ) ( )

“I am a drunkn asshole,” Gerard said, sending the words as a text to Ellen. He had her number in his cell phone strictly for business purposes, but he had no friends outside of Frank and Mikey and he couldn’t very well go to them about Frank being standoffish. He couldn’t actually go to anyone, but sitting at his desk waiting for Frank to give up hiding in Mikey’s room was killing him. After his shower, Frank had quickly gotten dressed. Donna had woken up and started making food by that point so after clinging to her while she made lunch, he went with Mikey upstairs and just hadn’t returned. 

“Lol goodmorning 2 u 2,” Ellen texted back. Moments later she sent another message. “What did u do?”

“It’s a secret.” He doubted Ellen would go to the cops about him, but it was just hard to explain. How did you tell someone you got drunk and slept with your underage foster brother without coming off as a creep?

“Shut up then. Lol it’s my day off.”

“I did something bad.”

“Well obviously u got drunk.”

“Yeah.”

“Did you wreck your car? I’m NOT driving u to work.”

“I didn’t wreck my car,” Gerard answered, adding a discouraged face at the end of the text.

“Then what do u want from me?”

“You’re friends with Frank.”

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY FRANKIE?”

“Made out a little...” 

“What!?”

“Yeah…”

“As if he doesn’t have enough problems! U ass!”

“I know…”

“Has he told ur mom that ur a pedo yet?”

“No… But he won’t talk to me.”

“He’s probably grossed out. U Creep.”

“He was into it! It’s not like I made him do it.” Gerard groaned and leaned back in his desk chair. He was regretting this more and more by the second. What had he been thinking? She was his co-worker, his subordinate. Not his friend. 

“Ur so dumb. Poor Frankie.”

“Thanks,” Gerard responded turning off his phone completely and tossing it over onto his bed. Yeah. Poor Frankie. All he had was a simple crush and then he’d gotten taken advantage of by some older guy with a much less innocent crush on him. 

He was nothing more than a child molester and Frank, who was already damaged, would be ruined for life—ruined for both men and women. Gerard guessed it was time he started looking for apartments and moved out… Give Frank his space so he could focus on meeting someone good for him instead of whoever was close. 

Gerard sighed heavily and got up from his desk, gathering together a change of clothes and going upstairs for a shower. He paused outside of Mikey’s room, looking in at Frank who was lying on the floor with Gerard’s Gameboy in hand. He didn’t look up from the screen even though he had to have herd Gerard on the steps over the ongoing trill of the game’s music. 

Of all the ways he’d imagine their relationship turning out if he’d let himself get close to Frank, he never saw Frank being the one to put the distance between them. 

( ) ( ) ( )

As soon as Gerard got out of the shower, Frank turned off his game and got up from the floor. 

“I’m going to go get a drink,” he said to Mikey who was on his laptop and hardly listening. He followed Gerard down the steps at a safe distance and tried to act casually as he walked past Don and Donna in the living room. He waited until he heard Gerard leave the bottom step of the basement stairs before starting down them, knowing Gerard would hear him but getting some comfort from the distance. 

Gerard was standing beside his bed, holding his cell phone, when Frank reached the last of the stairs. Frank hesitated a moment, then crossed over to him, wrapping his arms around Gerard’s waist from behind. 

“Hi,” he whispered, hoping Gerard was feeling better and that he wasn’t angry at him. He wanted to give him space while he recovered from his hangover, afraid he would wear down Gerard’s nerves and make him angry. 

“Oh—hey,” Gerard said, turning around in Frank’s grip so he could hug him back. “Done hiding from me, huh?”

“I wasn’t hiding… I was giving you space,” Frank said. Gerard looked hurt and that scared him. He’d never meant to _hurt_ Gerard. 

“Giving me space…” Gerard rubbed Frank’s back gently, then ended their embrace. 

“Are you mad at me?”

“No—No, I’m not mad.” He flashed a fake smile and Frank slowly sat down on his bed, hoping Gerard would sit beside him. Gerard did and Frank was quick to lean his head onto the man’s shoulder. 

“I’m… I’m sorry about last night,” Frank said after a moment. He didn’t like remembering the way he’d acted the night before—so shameless and sinful—and he knew that, being the sober one, he was far more guilty for what he’d allowed to happen than Gerard. Even if Gerard was the older one…

“Why in the world are _you_ sorry about last night?” Gerard asked. He would’ve come off angry if he didn’t put his arm around Frank’s shoulders and started squeezing him. 

“Because I made you…do those things.”

“Frank, you need to stop thinking you’re guilty for everything that happens. I was just as responsible as you.”

“Yeah, but you were drunk—”

“So? Being drunk was my _excuse_ to…do that stuff.” Gerard started blushing which, in turn, made Frank’s cheeks burn red. “It doesn’t mean I wasn’t…planning it beforehand.”

“You… You were…” Frank couldn’t get a thought to come out his mouth. Gerard had been planning it before? It wasn’t just an impulse? Was Gerard saying that he’d gotten drunk simply so he would get the courage to go through with it?

“Look, Frank… I like you. I do. I love you—” He always said love second, making Frank feel that he didn’t really mean it. Like it was an afterthought. He was sure Gerard loved him as a brother, but not as an equal. Not as a boyfriend. “—but you get that this is illegal, right? I’m not _allowed_ to do those things to you.”

“I won’t tell anyone. I didn’t even tell Jamia when she texted me earlier.” He hoped that if he could convince Gerard that their secret was safe with him, Gerard wouldn’t try to finish his speech with ‘I love you, but I need you to start sleeping somewhere else.’

“I know. I’m not worried about you telling. I’m worried about someone finding out.”

“It’s not illegal for us to…to just kiss and stuff,” Frank said. He was afraid to push it, but he wanted Gerard to stay with him. Maybe they weren’t really together. Maybe they weren’t official and never would be, but he loved Gerard. He really did. He didn’t want to let Gerard slip away without a fight. 

“That’s…true,” Gerard said. 

“I don’t need those…other things,” Frank said, wanting to say sinful but afraid Gerard would try to convince him that sex wasn’t sin. Frank could imagine nothing more sinful than pleasure—especially that kind. It didn’t matter if Gerard agreed or not. 

“Yeah, I know you don’t.” It almost sounded like an insult, and it would’ve hurt if Gerard hadn’t leaned over at that exact moment to press a kiss onto Frank’s cheek, then another on the corner of his mouth until Frank turned his head. 

Frank felt his cheeks burning as Gerard pressed their lips together for the first time sober. It was a gentle kiss, and chaste. Gerard didn’t part his lips so Frank didn’t either, preferring to keep his tongue to himself so Gerard wouldn’t think him sinful. 

Gerard lifted a hand and placed it on Frank’s cheek, softly caressing it. Frank scooted closer on the bed, carefully putting a hand on Gerard’s knee, just to touch him—just to feel connected. Gerard pulled away a little bit to take a breath and then went back to placing kisses on Frank’s lips and the corner of his mouth. 

“I love you,” Frank whispered when Gerard moved to start kissing his jaw. 

“I love you too, Baby,” Gerard said, kissing the side of Frank’s neck—immediately making Frank’s body go rigid from the pleasure. It was awful how such a small touch could make him completely helpless.

“Gerard?” Frank whimpered, squirming closer as Gerard’s mouth moved down his neck.

“Hm?”

“You—You said we couldn’t,” Frank managed to force out, his mouth saying one thing while his body said another, pressing closer and closer to Gerard. 

“I know,” Gerard said, pulling away altogether. Frank whimpered at the loss, slowly bringing his arms down and pressing them between his legs—hiding his sin in hopes Gerard wouldn’t see. “Sorry. You’re just…” Gerard turned and looked at him, his face flushed and twisted with a small, wicked grin. “You’re cute, Frankie.”

“I know… You told me that like twenty times last night,” Frank said, squirming around and trying to get his problem to go away. 

“Because I meant it,” Gerard said, smiling and leaning over to kiss Frank on the mouth again. This time, Gerard parted his lips and Frank felt his tongue run over his bottom lip. He barely had a thought go through his mind before complying, opening his mouth and letting Gerard’s tongue inside. 

He didn’t want to be sinful. He really didn’t. He wanted to be good and obedient to his faith, but it felt so good. 

Frank let his tongue run alongside Gerard’s, moaning softly. So much for obedience. So much for self-control. If his mother were here to see this, she would beat him so badly…

With images flashing in his mind of far too many whippings and beatings, Frank started kissing deeper—letting the pleasurable feelings mix with those bad memories. Gerard had a hand on his side, under his shirt. Frank hoped he’d lift it higher and go back to playing with him the way he had last night.

Before Frank knew it, Gerard had him lying on his back in the bed. 

“Gerard?” Frank said, hoping to break Gerard’s concentration. He was scared that Gerard would go too far—even if this felt good, Donna was upstairs and wide awake. If she came downstairs and saw them like this, there would be hell to pay and Frank was terrified of that idea. 

“Hm?” Gerard, looming on all fours over top Frank’s body, stared down at him. He was poised and ready to go back to sucking Frank’s neck, and as wonderful as that sounded, Frank couldn’t let it happen. 

“What are you doing?”

“Kissing you,” Gerard said, leaning down and kissing Frank on the mouth once again. He kept it chaste and brief, then kissed the tip of Frank’s nose. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

Frank stared at him, unwilling to say the truth.

“You can tell me,” Gerard said, kissing his nose again.

“A little,” Frank whispered. “I just…don’t want to be sinful.”

“Okay,” Gerard said, kissing Frank one more time on the mouth before lying down at Frank’s side. Frank rolled over and cuddled up next to him. He wanted to ask Gerard if they were boyfriends now, but was afraid of the answer. It was going to be no. He knew that. Gerard would say he was too young and immature for a real relationship, but they could commit sin together whenever Frank wanted… “I love you,” Gerard said.

“Why?” Frank asked, looking Gerard in the eye.

“Because you’re…innocent. You’re sweet and you love everybody.”

“I don’t love everybody,” Frank mumbled. 

“You’re quiet most of the time which is nice… Um, let’s see… You—You work hard, too. At the store…you don’t complain. I don’t know. I just like you a lot. I have for a while.”

“Really?” Frank asked.

“Yeah. Why do you think I keep buying you things? Because I’m just that nice?”

“Maybe,” Frank said, smiling a little and ducking his chin so he could bury his face in Gerard’s chest. Gerard held him closer and kissed the top of his head. The sin felt good, but in Frank’s opinion, there was nothing better than this.


	39. Chapter 39

_Chapter 39_

Frank didn’t know whether to be flattered or unnerved by Gerard’s hovering at work. He was unloading the truck with Ray again—doing a lot better than he had been in the weeks before—and Gerard kept popping his head into the back storeroom every ten to fifteen minutes to see that everything was going well. No matter how many times Frank laughed and told him everything was fine, Gerard kept coming.

“What’s going on with him?” Ray asked. 

“I don’t know,” Frank lied. Gerard was protective of him now and Frank found it so flattering. Sometimes he liked to daydream about being back home with Momma, and she’d be mad at him—ready to beat him—and then Gerard would come rescue him and take him away. They go to Donna’s house but no one else would be home. Gerard would kiss him like he did every night before bed, and then kiss his neck. They would cuddle and hide together under the blankets. 

Sometimes his fantasies went a little further, but those daydreams always made his stomach grow tight and the shame filled him. Plus, his mind often wandered when he was in the presence of others—specifically at school—he would start blushing madly.

“Is he like this when you’re at home?” Ray asked, passing Frank a heavy box of food which Frank pushed onto the top rack of the six wheeler. Though the wooden planks which formed the shelf arched under the weight, they were too unstable to hold smaller boxes. The extra weight kept the boards in place and having the larger boxes on top left more room on the metal bottom of the cart for the many smaller containers. 

“Not really. I mean… Maybe. We share a room so…I don’t know. I never really noticed before.” They were practically inseparable now. Even Donna had picked up on it and started _making_ Frank stay with her as she prepared dinner on nights Gerard was home. Mikey, also, had asked Frank on their walk home Friday night if Frank was angry with him because he avoided him so much and spent all his time with Gerard. Frank told him no and started blushing. Mikey told him he was getting weird.

“He’s starting to get on my nerves,” Ray said, tossing a box of toilet paper onto another one of the six wheelers. “Not like I can say anything to him… Mr. Corporate Official.”

Frank giggled. Gerard may have been someone “important” at work, but at home he was nothing but an artistic dork with a love for comics and crappy movies. It made Frank feel special to be close to someone that other people had to respect and fear. 

He placed another one of the heavier boxes onto the top of the six wheeler and then picked up an armful of boxes for the Health and Beauty cart along the far wall.

“Everything going okay back here?” Gerard asked, popping his head into the back room once again.

“Yes! Damnit, for the last time—yes! We’re fine!” Ray snapped.

Frank started giggling and passed Gerard a look that he wanted to mean “go away” but really just showed how happy he was to see him. He never got sick of Gerard’s face. They’d been kissing and sleeping next to each other for almost two whole weeks and yet Frank _still_ wanted to be with him all the time.

“You need to watch how you talk to me,” Gerard said, looking at Ray with more sass than anger. 

Frank kept giggling and went back to the conveyor belt, picking up another heavy case of soda and stacking it onto the top shelf—having to lift it over his head in order to do so.

“Wait—wait, why are you putting those boxes on the top?”

“’Cause the boards are uneven and the little boxes fall off,” Frank said, looking over at Ray for support. He didn’t want Gerard to think he was incompetent or messing up.

“Those boards are about to _break._ Don’t put anything else up there.”

“They’re reinforced,” Ray said, shaking his head. “They’re not going to break.”

“I don’t care—don’t do it,” Gerard said, looking to Frank.

“Fine,” Frank said. There were enough of the heavy boxes on the top to keep the boards in place so they could start stacking smaller boxes on top of the bigger ones if the bottom got full.

Gerard backed out of the storeroom again and Ray sighed, shaking his hair out of his face. 

“He’s driving me up the wall. I don’t know how you live with him.”

“He’s nice at home,” Frank said.

“I don’t buy it,” Ray said. “He’s an ass.”

“No he’s not,” Frank said, trying to keep his tone innocent even though the comment irked him. 

They worked in silence for a little while longer before Gerard checked in _again._ He was making sure Frank hadn’t put any more large boxes on that top shelf. 

“Stop worrying so much,” Frank said, setting a case of canned corn onto the bottom of the food six-wheeler.

“Would you stop it!?” Gerard snapped.

“What?” Frank asked, flinching. “I didn’t put it on top—what’s your problem?”

“Yeah, what the hell is your problem? You’ve been up our ass all night. Don’t you have anything better to do?” Ray said, his temper flaring.

“Don’t put your head under that shelf! It’s going to _break._ ”

“Gerard, I _told_ you. It’s reinforced. We’ve been using it for years.”

“Yeah—exactly! _Years._ It’s old—it’s gonna break and fall on his fucking head. Get those heavy boxes off the top and _stop_ sticking your head under there!” Gerard left the room again, almost like some sort of cartoon character or an over-animated actor on a sitcom.

Though his tone had been very hostile, Frank knew Gerard could never actually be angry with him and he just giggled yet again as Gerard disappeared. 

“Don’t waste time reorganizing that cart,” Ray said. “Just fill it up and keep your head out from under the shelf like he said.”

Frank nodded and set back to work. A bunch more Health and Beauty boxes came down the line, followed by mode cases of cleaners and chemicals. It was almost fifteen minutes before another case of food came down the conveyor and, of course, just as they did, Gerard reappeared.

“Keep your—”

“I know,” Frank interjected, carefully setting a stack of canned goods onto the cart. He made sure his head didn’t go under the wooden planks and that his hands were out from under them in a matter of seconds. 

“Is there _really_ nothing better you could be doing?” Ray snapped.

“No. It’s slow right now. If there was something else to be doing, I’d be doing it,” Gerard said, rolling his eyes.

“You just miss me,” Frank said, sticking out his tongue and giggling. 

Gerard’s face turned a little red and he left the room with a huff, muttering something about how Frank still hadn’t taken those heavy cases off the top like he’d told him.

“I don’t know how you stand him,” Ray said again.

“He’s really nice.”

“I don’t believe it for a minute,” Ray said.

“Really,” Frank said, stacking more and more food onto the six-wheeler before coming around to help Ray unload some cases of dog food. 

“He drives me _crazy._ ”

“Well, that’s kind of his job, isn’t it?”

“To be an asshole? I don’t think so. Look, I know he’s your brother now and all, but he’s mental.”

“I don’t think so,” Frank said, flashing a smile. He refused to get mad. He _couldn’t_ get mad and fight with his boss. He needed this job. The more he worked, the more Gerard praised him for being mature. And, even in the few weeks that he’d been working, Frank was already losing weight and gaining muscle. Even if Gerard claimed to like his pudge, Frank hated it and he was glad to see it going away. 

( ) ( ) ( )

“No!—Leave them alone before Ray decks you in the face!” Ellen said, grabbing Gerard by his arm just before he got into the back storeroom yet again.

“But I’ve got nothing else to do—I’m _bored,_ ” Gerard complained. “And what do you care?”

“I care because Ray is the _nice_ manager. I don’t want to have to work with Hannah _or_ Jason if you get Ray fired for assault.” She pulled Gerard toward the front counter. “Come on. You can tell me more about you making out with my sweet Frankie.”

“Ugh—I already told you. That was a one-time thing. I was drunk,” Gerard lied, hoping he came off convincing. 

“Bullshit. I see the way he looks at you. I’m not _dumb.”_ ”

“I’m telling you, it was a one-time thing. Drop it.”

“Oh, come on. You’re not still pouting because I called you a pedo, are you?”

Gerard said nothing.

“Oh, _come on!_ I only said that because you called me a pedophile for thinking he was cute. I don’t really think you’re creepy.”

“Whatever.”

“Stop pouting. I’m not going to report you or anything. Just tell me what’s going on with you two.”

“Nothing is going on. I got drunk, I did something stupid, now we’re done with it.”

“Right. And Frankie just looks at you and giggles because he’s remembering how bad of a kisser you are when you’re drunk.”

“Maybe. How the fuck should I know what he’s laughing at?”

“Don’t get snippy, mister. You’re the one who told me in the first place. I’m just curious.”

“Well don’t be.” Gerard wasn’t going to tell her anything. Not after how bad she’d made him feel. He needed support—he needed someone to help him figure out how to act. Instead, he’d just gotten told what he already knew: That he was a pedophile. That he was a creep. That he was manipulating poor Frank who had _no idea_ what love was supposed to look like.

“Aw, don’t pout. I don’t blame you. Frankie’s cute and he obviously likes you. It’s not like he’s twelve or anything. He’s seventeen. I don’t care if you make out with him when you drink or every night before bed.” She rolled her eyes as if to show how little concern she had but Gerard didn’t buy it. She just wanted the gossip so she could hold it against him later. “Gerard, you can tell me.”

“There’s _nothing_ to tell. I got drunk at dinner, I got confused, I started kissing him—that’s the end of it.”

“So what did you do the next morning? Tell him that?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re telling me he sat there and giggled at you?”

“No, but he—you know… He got over it.”

“Bullshit. He’s got the hots for you. If you shot him down he wouldn’t be smiling and blushing all the time. He’s worse than a schoolgirl.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“What? It’s true!” Ellen said, giggling. “His face is red _all_ the time. He lights up when he sees you even if he just saw your face four seconds ago.” 

“He just likes attention,” Gerard said.

“He just likes _you._ ”

“Shut up. No he doesn’t.”

“Yeah he does,” Ellen said, laughing as if she’d been told a joke. 

“No. He doesn’t.”

“Mm, yeah he does.”

“No, he—” Gerard’s words were cut short when a loud crash and an even louder scream cut through the store. It started off high-pitched then grew into a deep wail. Gerard knew immediately that it was Frank’s voice and he knew what had happened.

Both he and Ellen sprinted for the back of the store, and as soon as he pushed open the back doors could see what had happened. The wooden beams making up the shelf of the six wheeler had given out—just as he’d thought they would—and among the pile of boxes on the floor was Frank, draped over one of the larger boxes screaming and shaking. Ray was trying to kick and push aside boxes to get to him, but Gerard didn’t bother with getting the product out of the way. He stepped onto them, crushing some and not caring. He needed to get to Frank and make sure his head wasn’t bashed in. 

“Frank?” Gerard finally reached his side and saw that the box Frank was leaning on had his arm pinned. “It’s okay. I’m going to move it, okay?” He rubbed Frank’s back, but his boyfriend kept shaking and wailing. 

Taking a deep breath, Gerard lifted the box—a case of six two-litre bottles of cola—and pushed it aside. Frank’s screams of pain only got worse as the boy fell forward, covering his wounded arm with his entire body. His breathing started to become frantic, and though Gerard tried to pull him up, Frank wouldn’t budge.

“What happened?” Ellen asked, her voice shrill as the panic gripped her too. 

“Th-the shelf—it just…it just fucking collapsed,” Ray stammered, fisting his hands in his thick hair. “Shit. I-I didn’t think it would actually _break.”_

“Well it did!” Gerard snapped, turning away from Frank and letting his fury grip him, welcoming it more than the helpless feeling that came from watching his tiny boyfriend trembling from pain. “I fucking told you to get those boxes off the top and you didn’t! Now look what happened! _Look at him!_ I hope you’re happy!”

He didn’t even feel pleased when Ray’s face crumbled into despair. 

“G-Gerard,” Frank stammered, starting to rock back and forth as he struggled to breathe. 

“It’s okay,” Gerard said, turning back to him and rubbing his back. “Let me see your arm. Sit up—let me see.”

“No,” Frank cried, shaking his head as his voice turned back to high-pitched whine. 

“Frank—you need to let me see.”

“Should I call for an ambulance?” Ellen asked. 

“No. I’ll take him,” Gerard hissed. Even the truck driver had come to the back door to see what had happened. It was he who pointed out the blood on the box Gerard had pushed away from Frank. “Frank—please. You need to sit up and let me see.”

“No. Please, don’t. Please! _Please!_ ” Frank kept screaming as Gerard pulled him back by his shoulders. His voice was wracked with sobs and Gerard could immediately see why. The arm Frank was cradling to his chest was covered in blood and bent in an unnatural angle. 

“Shit… Frankie, we need to get you to the hospital okay?”

“No,” Frank stammered, squeezing his eyes shut as he cried. He was trying to pretend it hadn’t happened, acting as though denying it would make it go away. “I-I can still work.”

“No—No you can’t. Come on.” Gerard started pulling him up, but Frank refused to budge. Ray had to come help, and no matter how much Gerard hated the man right now, he knew he couldn’t refuse the aid.

Frank’s screams had turned to deep wails of pain as Gerard and Ray led him out of the storeroom. Gerard kept an arm around his shoulders to help support him and to offer comfort. He was terrified of what Frank was hiding under the fingers he had wrapped around his bleeding forearm—not knowing if bones were sticking out or if something had been severed…

“It’s going to be okay,” Gerard said, kissing Frank’s head as he guided him out into the parking lot. Frank kept sobbing and eventually buried his face in Gerard’s shoulder to muffle the sound. 

As soon as he got Frank fastened into the passenger seat of his car, Gerard passed one final, angry glance at Ray and then got in the driver’s seat.

“It’s going to be okay, Baby. I’m gonna take you to the hospital—you’re gonna be fine.”

“Don’t want to go,” Frank choked out.

“Frank, you _have_ to.” Gerard backed out of his parking space and started down the road. 

“I-I can fix it,” Frank whimpered. At the same time, he curled against the passenger door, hunched over and trembling.

“No you can’t—you’re not a doctor. Come on—it’s going to be okay.” Gerard reached over and tried rubbing Frank’s back but it didn’t console him. 

“M-Mom’s going to…to be mad at me,” Frank cried.

“No one’s going to be mad, Frank. It was an _accident._ ”

“You told me to take the boxes down. I didn’t listen. It’s _my_ fault.” Frank cried and started banging his head against the window—trying to do anything to distract from the pain in his arm.

“Stop—Frank, stop it! I know it hurts but I don’t need to take you in with a concussion too! Come on, just try to calm down.”

“I—I want to go home.”

“You’re going to the _hospital._ Your arm is _broken,_ Frank. I can’t just take you home.”

Frank didn’t say anything else. He continued to sob and gasp for air while cradling his arm. Through his fear and his anger, Gerard had one other thought in the back of his mind.

Frank’s mother. She had beaten him on a daily basis. She’d reduced him to this often and delighted in it—delighted in something that _pained_ Gerard just to see. He’d seen what her abuse had done to him before—sometimes he still had dreams about finding Frank cowering under that back table—but whenever he saw Frank crying, he wondered how she could have ever caused it on purpose. Frank was too good for her. Too kind for her. Too gentle, too sweet. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank was lying on the hospital bed, trying not to be so pathetic but completely defeated by all of the pain rocketing through him. He wanted Gerard to keep holding him and kissing him, but he couldn’t here—not with the doctors and nurses walking in and out. 

In his mind he could still hear the echoing crack of his arm bending under the force of the falling crate and the wooden board. It haunted him with each and every pulsation of pain.

He knew he should’ve listened to Gerard and taken the boxes down, but they were heavy and he was afraid he’d drop them. Now he wished he had. A broken toe had to hurt a lot less than this excruciating torture. This was on par with what Momma had done and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop crying.

“It’s okay. The medicine should kick in soon. It’ll get better, I promise,” Gerard said, rubbing Frank’s back as he rocked back and forth on the bed. 

Frank wanted to answer him—to tell him to keep touching him because even if the pain was unbearable, the touch made him feel a tiny bit better—but every time he opened his mouth, he sobbed.

“Shh. Baby, it’s gonna be okay. I promise.” Gerard stopped rubbing his back, however, and Frank started to cry harder afraid he was going to be left alone. Then, all of a sudden, Gerard was kneeling on the floor in front of him, and reached out to hold Frank’s hand. Frank let go of his injured arm and grasped onto Gerard, whimpering through the pain. “I promise, you’ll feel better soon. They’re going to fix you all up.”

“I won’t be able to work,” Frank cried, afraid Gerard would be disappointed in him.

“That’s okay. We’ll get you a different job. One where you don’t get hurt all time.”

“I want to work with you though,” Frank cried. “I like being with you.”

“I know, Baby. But don’t worry. You’ll still have me at home.”

“But I want to work,” Frank whimpered. “You like me better when I work.”

“I don’t feel any different toward you whether you’re working or not. Frank, you’re _hurt._ All I want is you to get better—” Gerard stopped speaking and looked up. Frank wanted to roll over and see what he was looking at, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. “Doctor’s here. See? I told you. You’ll feel better real soon.”

Frank let out a quiet, soft cry and braced himself for what the doctor had in store.


	40. Chapter 40

_Chapter 40_

Frank nestled down in his bed, his pillow propped up behind him to keep him at least slightly upright. He didn’t have much of an appetite, but Donna was fussing about making him a good dinner so he wouldn’t complain. She hadn’t stopped fretting and worrying over him since she’d arrived at the hospital. As soon as she entered the room she started hugging him and kissing him—giving him all kinds of affection, even as the doctor reset his bone and then set to stitching the gash in his arm from the jagged edge of the broken plank. She kissed him more than Gerard did _ever._

Like, in one sitting she’d kissed him more than Gerard had in their entire lives. 

Frank never thought he’d say it, but he really wanted Donna to just stay away. He’d had enough kisses. Now all he wanted was to curl up and sleep. _Gerard_ could come kiss him if he wanted, but no one else. Frank didn’t want to see anybody else. 

Except maybe Zoe. She’d jumped onto his bed almost as soon as he’d gotten comfortable and climbed up the narrow space beside him, sniffing at his stark-white cast and then licking his fingers. Frank lifted his right hand to pet her head and smiled as she settled her head down on his chest. She kept her eyes on him, knowing he was hurt and doing her best to make him feel better. 

With her efforts combined with the nice, strong hospital-grade pain medications, Frank didn’t think he could feel any better. 

He was still petting her head when he heard fast, heavy footfalls on the stairs and Mikey burst into the room. 

“What the heck happened?” Mikey asked, eyes getting large when he saw Frank’s cast.

“I don’t know,” Frank mumbled, his head swimmy. “The shelf I was putting boxes on broke and my arm got in the way.”

“Shit—how many places is it broken?”

Mikey came over and sat on the foot of Frank’s bed, on the opposite side of Zoe, and started petting her back. Zoe didn’t give him any attention—her eyes were still focused on Frank. 

“Just one,” Frank said. “I think…”

“Did it hurt?”

“Nah,” Frank said, hoping Gerard wouldn’t go and tell everyone that he’d screamed his head off and cried like a baby the entire time before the drugs kicked in. He felt so pathetic. One of the shows Mikey loved to watch after school was a stupid videos from across the globe kind of show and there were at least two broken bone clips in every episode—and those people hardly seemed in pain at all. Typically they announced that their arm or ankle had snapped. They didn’t scream and turn into whining children 

“Can I sign your cast?” Mikey asked, seeming to be at a loss for what else to say. He’d obviously been expecting an exciting story, but all he got was Frank—Frank who was almost too inebriated to form complete sentences. 

“Not right now,” Frank mumbled, scratching Zoe’s ear and smiling at her. “Gerard said he’s going to draw on it.”

“Right,” Mikey said, rolling his eyes. “Wouldn’t want to get in the way of _that.”_

“What do you mean?” Frank asked. Mikey’s tone had confused him. It wasn’t angry or bitter, more…sarcastic. 

“You and Gerard. You’re always together. I can’t get a minute in edgewise. You don’t even do homework with me anymore.”

“Yes I do,” Frank said. Mikey still didn’t sound angry. It confused Frank so much but he didn’t want to ask what was wrong. He didn’t feel strong enough to have a deep conversation like that and he felt bad that he had to hide what was happening between him and Gerard from their family. It was hard for Frank to keep secrets like that. Hiding pain and making excuses was one thing, but hiding bliss? Hiding love and infatuation? No… That just wasn’t possible.

“On nights he works and you don’t.” Mikey started smirking at him—like it was all some kind of joke. Frank just didn’t get it.

“I’m sorry,” Frank said. It was his go-to response for whenever someone disliked what he did. His own reasoning behind his actions didn’t matter. If he’d upset someone, he needed to change it. “I can…hang out with you more. It’s just that it’s winter. We can’t…can’t hang out in the park like we used to.”

“I know. I’m just teasing you. By the way, Mom _freaked_ when she heard you were in the hospital again. Like she actually lost her shit. It was kinda funny.”

“It’s not funny,” Frank argued, thinking back to how upset and worried Donna had been when she’d arrived. 

“Yeah it is. She thought you guys got in some sort of car accident or something.”

“That’s not funny either,” Frank said, shifting on the bed and groaning, not used to being unable to use his left arm. 

“It would be if you’d seen her.”

“I guess,” Frank mumbled, not wanting to argue. 

Moments later, Gerard came downstairs followed closely by Donna who was carrying a plate of food. She shooed Zoe off the bed and handed the plate to Frank who let it sit in his lap, unable to hold it and eat at the same time with only one good hand. 

“Here, let me help.” Gerard came to sit next to him on the very edge of bed and propped the plate up for him. 

Mikey made a humored, sputtering sound, and stood up from the bed. He disappeared up the stairs after calling for Zoe to follow him and before anyone could ask him what his problem was—though Frank had a sinking feeling that he knew exactly what was wrong. 

“Now if you’re not too hungry, don’t try to force yourself to eat it all. I can wrap it up for later,” Donna said, coming over to push Frank’s bangs out of his face and kiss him on the temple for the millionth time that day. 

“Thanks,” Frank said, fumbling with his fork a little, not used to all the attention he was getting even though Donna’s house was far more affectionate than his mother’s had ever been. He wasn’t ignored here, but he was cared for—and now he was being smothered. 

“Mom, you’re freaking him out. Can you give us some room?” Gerard said, passing her a sideways glance as he continued to hold the plate for Frank. 

“Give you some—Oh, stop! I’m just making sure he’s okay,” Donna said, petting Frank’s hair more. 

“I’m fine, Mom,” Frank mumbled, leaning away a little from her insistent touching.

“See? He’s fine?” Gerard pressed. “Just let him eat.”

“Alright,” Donna said, huffing irritably. “I’ll go get you some water.”

As soon as her back was turned, Gerard looked at Frank and smiled, rolling his eyes to mock Donna’s concern. She came back with tea instead of water and kissed Frank’s head a few more times before going back upstairs. 

Finally, Frank was able to turn and kiss Gerard on the mouth. Gerard stroked Frank’s cheek with his thumb before slowly pulling away. 

“You feeling okay?” Gerard asked.

“Yeah. I’m tired though.”

“Do you want me to put this upstairs so you can take a nap?” Gerard asked, waving the plate of food around a little.

“No… Donna will get upset.”

“Okay. Suit yourself.” Gerard smiled at him and held the plate up a little higher, gesturing for Frank to take a bite. Every now and then, Gerard would steal a piece of food off the plate and pop it into his own mouth. 

Once half of the food was gone, Frank let him take the plate away and moved to lie down in the bed. Gerard was quick to set the plate aside and turn off the overhead light, then he climbed back onto the bed in order to cuddle him closer. He stayed propped against the headboard so Frank could lie on his chest. 

“I’m really sorry you got hurt today,” Gerard whispered. 

“I should’ve listened,” Frank said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. Ray shouldn’t have had you putting those boxes up there.”

“But the little ones fall off…”

“Then the boards should’ve been reinforced or _replaced._ It wasn’t your fault. I’m just glad it didn’t smash your head.” Gerard squeezed him tight and kissed the top of his head. 

“It would’ve if you hadn’t warned me,” Frank said, tilting up his head to kiss Gerard’s neck. He was too tired to do more and he hoped Gerard wouldn’t try even though kissing anywhere other than the face was usually their silent signal to each other that they wanted more. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Gerard said, kissing Frank’s head again. 

“Do you think Ray is mad at me?”

“No. Ray is not mad at you.”

“I broke the six wheeler though…”

“Frank, don’t take this the wrong way, but shut up. You need to stop feeling guilty for everything that happens. It’s not your fault it broke—it’s not even Ray’s fault, for God’s sake. Accidents happen. You’re not responsible for everything.”

Frank whimpered and pressed his face harder into Gerard’s chest. It didn’t matter what message Gerard was trying to send. Talking to him that way hurt. He didn’t want told to shut up. He didn’t want his worries to bother Gerard. Maybe it was best if he just stopped talking all together for the night…

“Are you listening?” Gerard asked, his tone much softer. 

“Yes,” Frank whispered, licking his lips and sniffing softly. 

“Frank?”

“Hm?” Frank nuzzled Gerard’s chest, trying not to cry. Two words—shut up—shouldn’t hurt him this much. Especially when he knew Gerard hadn’t meant to hurt him.

“Are you okay?”

“Mhm,” Frank hummed, trying to keep his breathing even. He was just tired and his arm was starting to throb again. 

To be entirely honest, though, Frank hated being so sensitive. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Frank whimpered. 

“Frank…”

“I’m okay,” Frank whispered. “My arm hurts again.”

“Aw. I’m sorry, Baby.” Gerard kissed the top of his head and Frank resisted the urge to duck away from it. If he angered Gerard, he would have no one. That was the price he paid for this relationship. If he ruined it, he would destroy his new family and probably end up on the streets. “I’m going to take your plate upstairs. Is there anything I can get you?”

“No,” Frank whispered, shifting so Gerard could get off of the bed. Once Gerard was standing, Frank moved to lie down completely and pulled his blankets all the way up to his chin. He didn’t care if he was still dressed in his day clothes and bloodied work polo. He wanted to sleep. He wanted left alone before he could piss anyone else off. 

“Okay… I’m going to help you change into your pajamas. You’re not sleeping like that.”

Frank sighed heavily and stared at the wall as Gerard started up the basement stairs. He didn’t want Gerard to have to dress him and change him like a child. He was old enough to take care of himself…and he didn’t trust Gerard not to use helping him change as an excuse to initiate more. 

As soon as Gerard was gone, Frank got up from the bed and immediately starting stripping off his jeans—wanting to at least get his lower layer of clothing changed without Gerard trying to help him. It was harder with his arm in a cast, and his back and legs hurt terribly from unloading the truck. He got his dresser drawer open and listened for the noises upstairs. Gerard was talking to Donna in the kitchen and Frank decided to take the risk and change his boxers as well before bed. 

However, no sooner had he stepped out of his jeans and boxers did he hear Gerard on the basement steps. Frank gasped and started working faster to try to get his clean boxers slipped on before Gerard could see him. 

He probably would’ve managed, too, if he hadn’t been staring at the stairs instead of watching what he was doing. He was able to get his left foot through the leg of his underwear, but his right one got tangled and he barely got out a scream before he fell onto the floor—naked from the waist down—smacking his left arm on the concrete floor and sending a mind-numbing bolt of pain through his broken arm. 

“Shit—Frankie? What did you do?” Gerard started running on the steps. Frank screamed at him to stay away and started trying to get his boxers up from around his ankles. 

Gerard didn’t listen. He came to Frank’s side and started rubbing his shoulders.

“Get off!” Frank snapped, trying to shake him off while still attempting to hide as much of his skin as he could with his arms and legs—hunching over into a ball when Gerard kept touching him.

“Boys? Is everything okay?” Donna called from the stairs. 

“We’re fine, Ma,” Gerard called back. Then, to Frank, “What’s wrong? I’m trying to help.”

“I don’t want your help! Get off me!” 

“Frank, I’m just—”

“Get _off!”_ Frank, still hunched over to shield himself, reached back with his good arm and started slapping at Gerard until the man backed off and quit touching him.

“Fine! Jesus Christ. I was trying to _help_ you.”

Frank moaned, starting to feel guilty now that he wasn’t at risk of being seen. He listened as Gerard went to his own side of the room—his back no doubt facing Frank—and then unfolded himself from his position on the floor. He managed to get his other ankle through the leg hole of his boxers and slid them partially up his thighs. He wasn’t able to get them up all the way since his left arm—now in as much pain as it had been when he broke it—was next to useless, and had to stand. 

When he looked over his shoulder at Gerard, the man was sitting at his desk, scribbling something in agitation, but as soon as Frank stood up to pull his clothes up the rest of the way, Gerard turned around.

“Stop looking at me!” Frank cried, covering himself and dropping back onto the floor. He didn’t care if Gerard was his boyfriend or trying to help him—it wasn’t fair. His body wasn’t Gerard’s to see. Maybe to touch, but never, _ever_ to see. As soon as Gerard would see him, their relationship would be over. Gerard would be disgusted… He’d hate him just like Momma did. 

“Frank, I’ve already seen it, okay? It’s not that bad.”

“Shut up!” Frank snapped, tears that had been brimming his eyes since he’d struck his arm on the floor finally spilling over. “No you haven’t!” Even though Gerard turned to look at him, there was no way he could’ve seen anything that fast. He was lying. He was just lying to make convince Frank to stop trying to be modest—to stop trying to hide the most repulsive part of himself. 

Gerard sighed and set down his pen. “Yes, I have.”

“No you haven’t,” Frank repeated, making himself put weight on his bad arm in order to brace himself so he would be able to pull his boxers up over his hips as Gerard stood from his desk.

“Frank, I changed you when you were drunk. I _saw,_ okay?”

“No you didn’t!” Frank screamed, feeling violated and horrified. This was slowly becoming the worst day of his life—worse than what had happened with Momma. At least Momma didn’t lie to him—pretend to be his friend and then _violate_ him as soon as he let his guard down. 

Gerard didn’t love him. Gerard _never_ loved him. He just _used_ him the way Momma said men would. Gerard tricked him and seduced him and proved him to be the sodomite his mother said he was. 

“Yes, I did,” Gerard said, his tone sounding as if he were confessing something that pained him. 

Frank could imagine he would feel grief after seeing something so disgusting. There was no doubt now that Gerard wasn’t just lying in hopes that Frank would let him see now. He’d seen. He _knew._

“I don’t _care_ that you have scars, Frank.”

“I don’t care!” Frank snapped, throwing the words back at him. “I don’t want you touching me! Don’t come near me!” How could Gerard have done that? How could he have taken advantage of him in that way? What _else_ had he done while Frank had been unconscious? 

“Boys?” Donna called again, this time starting down the stairs. 

Frank couldn’t let her walk in on this—she couldn’t see him this way. He was starting to feel trapped and even though he still had on his work polo and underwear he was feeling exposed. 

“Don’t come down here!” Frank screamed at her, hoping she’d stay away. Hoping she’d get mad and hate him and throw him out so he didn’t have to be in this awful place anymore. 

“Ma, just give us a minute,” Gerard said. 

“What are you two fighting about?” She was halfway down the stairs, not deterred at all by Frank’s rage. She seemed to ignore it—or saw through it and knew it was nothing more than pain. She was nothing like Momma…

“Ma, it’s nothing. Just go back upstairs,” Gerard pressed.

She hesitated, then sighed. 

“Fine.” She muttered something else, but Frank couldn’t hear it, then went back upstairs to the kitchen.

As soon as she was gone, Frank knew he was at Gerard’s mercy, and no matter how small he felt on the floor, he would never be small enough to disappear. Gerard would never be intimidated by him no matter how loud he yelled. Gerard would never fear him or respect him. How could he? Frank was nothing. Gerard had seen that for himself. He was nothing…and damaged. 

“Frank, you need to quit yelling at me, alright? It’s not helping.”

Frank said nothing, just reached for his blanket and pulled it off his bed in order to cover his legs from view as Gerard neared him. He wasn’t going to stay back. He was going to keep coming closer and closer and there was nowhere Frank could run to escape him.

“Is your arm okay?”

“It’s fine,” Frank muttered, holding his broken arm closer to his chest as if protecting it. He knew Gerard didn’t care about his arm—it was just a ploy to distract him from the real issue. 

“Look, I know you’re mad at me and you have a right to be—you do. I wasn’t _trying_ to…to _violate_ you, though. Okay? I was trying to get you changed so…so you’d be more comfortable. That’s it. That’s all it was about. I wasn’t trying to take advantage of you—I wasn’t trying to hurt you or…or, fuck, Frank—I wasn’t trying to rape you. I was just trying to help.”

“How would that help!?” Frank snapped. 

“I don’t know—it was wrong. I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry—I mean that.”

“You’re a liar!” Frank yelled. “How would that help me? You knew it wouldn’t help me! It was about you! Y-you’re a f-fucking sodomite and you wanted to h-hurt me like Momma said!”

“Jesus Christ,” Gerard hissed, starting to look angry. “You fuckin’ pissed on yourself, okay? I was trying to clean you up so you wouldn’t be fucking embarrassed! Maybe if you knew how to fucking drink without killing yourself I wouldn’t have had to change you like a fucking kid!” 

All of the words left Frank’s brain and he sank his teeth into his bottom lip. He was mortified. Was that true? Was he really that pathetic? And Gerard had tried to spare him the embarrassment by changing him, just like he’d tried to spare him the embarrassment now after being caught naked on the floor because he was clumsy. 

Gerard was trying to help him and Frank was proving himself to be undeserving of the compassion. 

Frank stared at him and started sobbing, unable to even find the words to apologize. Not only had he yelled at Gerard—his boyfriend…his _ex_ boyfriend now—but he’d also let himself yell at Donna. No matter what he felt, he acted wrong. He ruined everything. _Everything._

“See? That’s why I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t want you to freak out… Now will you calm down?” Gerard was standing over him, looking more sympathetic than Frank deserved. “I didn’t mean to make you feel violated or creeped out. All I’m saying is don’t worry—I’ve seen it and I don’t care. I still think you’re perfect.”

Perfect? Gerard saw _that_ as well as this terrible display and thought he was _perfect?_

“I’m not perfect,” Frank whispered, trying to hold back more tears. He didn’t know where to go from here. He didn’t yell at people—he didn’t _fight_ with people… And if he did, he just ran home and hid with his mother—a place he knew no one would ever follow him. 

“Whatever. I’m not going to argue with you. Can I help you put your pants back on so you don’t fall again?”

“Okay,” Frank whispered. 

He didn’t resist as Gerard pulled the blanket away from him or helped him to stand up. Frank whimpered a little when his left arm was moved—the bones hurting badly despite the pills he’d taken. Gerard helped him step into pajama pants and then took off his polo for him, going slow as he pulled the sleeve over Frank’s cast. 

As soon as he was completely dressed, Gerard draped the blanket back over his bed but when Frank went to lay down, Gerard grabbed him by his arm again.

“You’re sleeping in my bed tonight.”

“Why?” Frank asked, pulling away even though he had no right and keeping his head ducked. 

“Because I don’t trust you when you’re upset.”

“I want to sleep alone. I’m not going to try anything,” Frank whispered. 

“Frank, I’d feel better if you slept next to me. I know you’re mad, but…I just don’t want you to get hurt.” 

“I won’t…”

“I know you’re mad at me, but you’re not sleeping alone tonight.”

“I’m not mad,” Frank mumbled. How could he be mad if he was the one who’d messed up? When he was the one who proved he couldn’t take care of himself or act right?

“No?”

“No.”

“Then what’s wrong with you?”

“I’m _embarrassed,_ ” Frank whimpered, finally looking up at him. Gerard didn’t look mad…

“Look, Frank, shit happens, alright? I don’t judge you. I don’t care if you got a little crazy at your first party. I wasn’t going to tell you about it, but I didn’t want you thinking I was trying to get in your pants when you were passed out.”

“I know you wouldn’t do that,” Frank whispered.

Gerard scoffed at him and shook his head, “Yeah… Right. Just know that if…if you weren’t so upset I wouldn’t make you sleep by me. I know you’re mad. I know I’m the last person you want touching you, but I can’t risk you getting hurt.”

“I’m not mad,” Frank whispered again, moving a little closer to Gerard and opening his arms a little. He didn’t expect Gerard to reciprocate, but he did. He wrapped his arms around Frank tightly and kissed the top of his head just like he did before they fought. “Do you still like me?” Frank asked, squeezing Gerard a little tighter with his good arm. 

“I _love_ you. One fight isn’t going to change that.” Gerard pushed him back by his shoulders enough to kiss him on the forehead, then his cheek, and finally his lips once Frank tilted back his head. “Come. Come lay down.”

Frank let himself be guided over to Gerard’s bed and laid down even though it was too early to sleep. 

“I’m gonna go talk to Mom. I’ll be back in a minute, alright?” Gerard said, leaning down to kiss Frank on the mouth one more time before leaving to go upstairs. 

( ) ( ) ( )

It had been four days since the fight and Frank still hadn’t returned to normal. He was skittish, much more so than before, even around Donna who thought nothing about Frank having yelled at her. He’d gone back to hugging her all the time—trying as hard as he could to prove he was sorry—and gave Gerard the opposite treatment. 

He would hug and kiss, but wouldn’t let Gerard do any more than that. Which was fine, Gerard guessed. Their relationship shouldn’t have started that fast anyway. Frank wasn’t ready for a physical relationship and it was terrible that their relationship had started that way. Frank was so damned sensitive and too fucking shy. Even after hearing that Gerard had already seen the scars he was so self-conscious about, his defenses had yet to drop. 

He would probably never let those defenses drop, Gerard realized. His mother had demonized him and sex—and linked sex with shame and pain in more ways that Gerard could even fathom. Every time he saw those scars, Frank thought of her and what she’d done. Every time Gerard touched him, Frank probably feared he would see the scars—making him think of the scars and how he’d gotten them. 

As it was, Gerard lie in bed sketching, waiting for Frank to get home from school. He was drawing out a pattern for what he wanted to put on Franks cast, assuming the boy would actually let him that close again. It was another fifteen minutes before Frank came home and stepped down into their basement bedroom after hugging Donna and letting her fuss over him and his broken arm. 

“Hey,” Frank said, looking at Gerard and smiling. 

That was new.

“Hi. How was school?”

“Fine.” It was a short answer, but he was still smiling as he put his bag away. He even came over to sit on Gerard’s bed and opened his arms for a hug. Gerard set his sketchpad aside and hugged him tight for the first time in days. Frank started kissing his cheek and Gerard turned his head so their lips could touch. Frank hummed happily and then moved to lie beside Gerard. “What were you working on?”

“The sketch for your cast,” Gerard said. 

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s just a—” He didn’t get the chance to finish because Frank snatched the book up from the bed and started looking at it.

“It’s cool! Can you start it now?” Frank asked. 

“Um… Sure, yeah.” Gerard flashed him a smile before getting up to retrieve his markers. He’d bought some from the Spend N Save knowing the rough cast would destroy them and not wanting to use and ruin his good drawing pens. 

It took him a few minutes to pick where he wanted the pattern to begin, but Frank waited patiently the entire time. Gerard would have to ask him later what he was so happy about, but for the moment he was willing to let it go. He sketched the outline of a twisted Halloween style tree and cemetery headstones while Frank lay there and smiled at him. 

“What’s with you today?” Gerard asked, giving up as he drew a cartoon ghost floating out of one of the headstones. 

“I was talking to Jamia about you.”

“About me?” That wasn’t good. That was not good at all. 

“Yeah. I told her we’re together.”

“I told you that wasn’t a good idea because it’s _illegal,_ ” Gerard said.

“I didn’t tell her about the sex stuff,” Frank mumbled, that smile finally going away. “I just told her I liked you and you liked me and we’re together.”

“Okay. So why is that such a big deal?”

“She said she’s jealous of me,” Frank said, grinning like mad. 

“Oh?”

“Yeah—because she wants a girlfriend and can’t find one and I have you.”

“You like that? People being jealous of you?”

“Yeah,” Frank said, giggling a little. “No one’s ever been jealous of me before.” 

“That’s not true,” Gerard said, filling in the scary tree. 

“No?”

“I’m jealous of you.”

“No,” Frank said, giggling.

“Yes. You’re young and sexy.” 

It was risky—and wrong, did he have no fucking self-control!?—but it made Frank giggle so Gerard didn’t have to worry about scaring him or chasing him off again. 

“Do you think so?”

“Um, duh. There’s a reason I can’t keep my hands off you,” Gerard said. 

“Really?” Frank asked, giggling again. His face was turning bright red and, after the first few weeks of their relationship where Gerard’s hands were seldom outside the boy’s pants, was his tell that he was in the mood. 

Gerard guessed he shouldn’t be surprised. Frank was a teenage boy, abuse and damage aside, and if he had someone close he knew would satisfy his needs, he was going to come begging for it sooner or later no matter how many fights that got into.

“Mhm.”

“Gerard?”

“What, Baby?”

“I was thinking…I know it’s weird and all because…because the other day, but… I-If you’ve seen me before then…it really doesn’t matter, right?”

“Right,” Gerard said, encouraging Frank to say more. He didn’t like where this was going. Frank was finally wanting to ask for something and even if he thought he was okay to be naked in front of Gerard, Gerard knew better. He was going to freak out and probably give himself a panic attack—or start crying about sin and how bad he was…

“Can… Um, i-if I do it for you w-will you…maybe for me?” Frank asked.

“Do what?” Gerard asked. If Frank couldn’t ask for it, he wasn’t ready for it.

“Um…” Frank’s face was a dark shade of red and he was watching Gerard’s hand as he stammered out what he wanted. “I just thought…we’ve been together a while and…I really like you. If…If I s-suck you, will you…for me?” He let out a shaky breath, horribly embarrassed by the sinful things he was saying. 

“I don’t know if you’re ready for that just yet, Frank,” Gerard said, looking him in the eye as he spoke.

“I did it for Kyle and I didn’t even like him. I love you…”

Gerard couldn’t help it—his eyebrows went comically high and the motions of his pen stopped.

“I thought you _slept_ with that kid.”

“No…he asked me to do _that_ and I did… He said he would for me after but…” Frank looked down at the bedspread and shrugged. 

“If that’s what you want then…maybe later tonight. After your homework is done.”

“Don’t say after homework,” Frank groaned, flopping down against the bed. “Sound like a parent…”

“Well it’s later or not at all because Mom will be making dinner soon and you know you’ll want to help her.”

“I know,” Frank mumbled.

Gerard almost laughed at him. Abuse or no abuse, Frank was still a horny teenager. He just hoped the boy would be so eager later, because Gerard could see it going wrong in so, so many ways. Frank was shy and self-conscious. That didn’t disappear overnight—or over a four day period—no matter how embarrassed Frank was of his behavior earlier in the week. He didn’t seem to get that Gerard completely understood what had happened. He wasn’t just traumatized by his mother’s abuse, he’d also been injured and was still in pain—then he’d literally been caught with his pants down which made him panic. 

Being told that he was nothing more than a useless, sodomite-sinner all his life couldn’t have helped his emotional state at that moment, nor could having awful scars on full-display. Not only had she scarred him between the legs, there were also marks on his thighs as well. They weren’t nearly as bad, but they still brought up questions. Had she really whipped him that hard? So hard to leave long, white lines across his upper thighs? 

Not to mention he’d had hospital-grade pain medication in his system…

“What do you think so far?” Gerard asked, giving Franks his arm back so he could examine his cast. Even though it was closer to Christmas than Halloween, Gerard was still proud of the twisted tree and cemetery scene. “I’m going to put a cat on that one,” Gerard said, pointing to one of the headstones. 

“Can there be a dog?”

“Sure. Anything you want.”

“Make it Zoe,” Frank said, smiling and leaning up for a kiss. Gerard smiled back and kissed him softly on the lips, fighting the smirk that began to arise when Frank ran his tongue along his bottom lip. He opened his mouth and slid his tongue in alongside Frank’s, lifting a hand to stroke Frank’s cheek. 

Frank immediately started to moan and crawled a little closer.

Gerard broke the kiss and pulled away, making Frank huff a little in disappointment.

“Later, Baby.”

“Fine,” Frank mumbled, lying flat on the bed and offering his arm back to Gerard to finish the drawing.


	41. Chapter 41

_Chapter 41_

Donna felt her stomach tighten as she thumbed through the letters she’d taken from the mailbox. Four of the six envelopes were bills, one was junk mail, the other was a letter addressed to Frank from his grandmother. She was both nauseated and angry. She wanted to crumple the letter into a ball and then burn it—then burry the ashes in the trash so Frank would never have to see it. 

But she wasn’t allowed to do that. It _was_ illegal to steal his mail, even if the person sending it was a cold-hearted bitch. If his grandmother complained that she was sending letters and Frank wasn’t receiving them, Donna could be arrested—or, more likely, have Frank taken away from her and given to that awful woman. 

So, it was with much disdain that she took the letter in hand and started down the basement stairs. 

“Frank?” 

The boy was lying in Gerard’s bed, his head on his older brother’s shoulder while Gerard held his arm and sketched on his cast. 

“Hm?” Frank looked at her lazily, far too comfortable snuggled into Gerard’s side. 

Donna forced herself to ignore it for the moment. She’d noticed it weeks ago that Frank was clinging to Gerard more than he ever had before. Wherever Gerard went, Frank wanted to be. It was more than admiration. It was _infatuation._ It was a crush. And Gerard, who seldom liked to be touched by members of his own family, was not the type to let a strange kid lie all over him…

But she had to believe for the moment that nothing strange was going on. Now wasn’t the time. 

“You’ve got a letter,” Donna said, coming over to the bed and handing him the envelope.

“Is it from my dad?” Frank asked. 

It broke her heart that he sounded excited and started smiling, until he turned over the envelope and saw his grandmother’s name.

“What is it?” Gerard asked, looking away from his work. 

“It’s from Grandma,” Frank whispered, pulling his arm away from Gerard’s lap. 

Donna didn’t know if Frank wanted her in the room or not as he started to tear open the envelope. She wanted to support him if the letter upset him—she wanted to rip it from his hands and run back upstairs with it—but she didn’t know if she was welcome. The boy loved her deeply, but it was becoming more and more apparent that he wanted to put more space between them. When he and Gerard had fought, Frank screamed at her to stay out of the room. He was growing up, she guessed. That or he wanted to keep something a secret…

Something about him and Gerard.

Frank took out the letter and stared reading it. By the time he turned over the first page, tears were already in his eyes and he was holding his breath to avoid sobbing. 

Gerard put an arm around him and Frank nestled back down against his chest, still holding and reading the letter. It was four pages long—front and back—and Donna realized a moment too late that the last page was a different parchment than the first three. It was another letter from his mother.

The tears Frank was struggling to hold back fell freely by the second paragraph. Gerard tried to take the letter from him, but Frank wouldn’t allow it. He read every word, then dropped the paper onto his lap and started sobbing. 

Gerard, who had been reading the letter along with him, wrapped his arms tightly around Frank and pulled him into his chest. When Frank buried his face in Gerard’s neck, Gerard looked up at his mother and shook his head. 

“Why?” He mouthed to her, sending a cold scowl down at the letter. 

“I had to,” Donna mouthed in response when he looked back up at her.

Gerard rolled his eyes and held Frank tighter, rubbing his back and kissing his head. Donna came over to them and took the letter. Frank turned his head to look at her, but said nothing in protest. 

“Frank, I’m going to brew you some tea. Okay?”

“Okay,” Frank whispered. 

“Is there a certain kind you’d like?” She asked, hoping to somehow take the boy’s focus off of the awful words his family had written him.

“I want the fruit tea,” Frank murmured, holding Gerard tighter and turning his face back into the man’s neck. 

Something was happening between them. 

Something Donna would need to put a stop to as soon as possible. 

“Okay. I’ll get it for you.” With the letter in hand, Donna hurried up the stairs and as soon as she’d started boiling water to make tea, she unfolded the letter and began reading. 

His grandmother insulted him almost immediately for not responding to her previous letter—the letter Donna refused to give him—then continued to berate him for his behavior in court which she’d heard about from a friend who attended on her behalf. She asked how he could testify against his mother when he knew what had happened was his own fault. Even if his “punishment” had been more cruel than she herself would ever deal out, he had to know that he deserved it—that he’d brought it on himself since he _knew_ how his mother felt about sinful behavior. 

She wrote about how angry he was that he didn’t even write her for Thanksgiving as she would have liked to see him and make sure his new family wasn’t letting him “get away with murder.” She seemed to fear that Donna was turning him into some sort of Satanist and insulted Frank for not continuing to attend at his mother’s church. He was sure to be cast into Hell no matter how much time he spent in the church, his grandmother wrote, since he was so prone to sin. But maybe, just maybe, if he attended a regular service his soul might be saved before it was too late.

It was sickening. It made Donna want to get in her car and drive to Pennsylvania to beat the shit out of this vicious woman. 

Finally, Donna reached Linda’s letter. 

_Son,_ it began. _I am told that I am not to contact you at all. I find that offensive since you are my child. I birthed you and I have a right to speak with you if I’d like._

She continued on for an entire paragraph about how it was her right to speak with him and acted as though it were his fault that courts refused to allow her to speak with him. She insulted him for turning her in for writing him the last time and explained in detail how she was belittled and reprimanded by the courts and the “asylum” staff. 

She said a lot about the hospital she was in and how poorly she was treated—and how it was all Frank’s fault because he had to give in to his sinful, male nature. All men were awful. All men were repulsive. She told him so again and again. 

Then Linda got to the point. The sentencing date had been set and she wanted him there—both to speak in her defense and so that he could see the consequences of his actions. She wanted him to see what he’d put his own mother through. 

This woman still thought she could do no wrong and wanted to continue using Frank to garner sympathy from the courts. She didn’t care for being labeled ill or insane, but she would prefer to stay in the hospital over ending up in a literal prison. 

Donna shook her head and then dropped the letter onto the counter. She picked out one of the fruit teas and set the bag into a cup before pouring the boiled water over it. As the red dyes escaped from the cranberry-infused tea leaves, Donna imagined it was Linda’s blood. 

She wished she could murder that woman…or just get ten minutes alone with her. She would beat the hell out of her—violate her sex and see how she handled it. Beat her over and over until she needed surgery. 

All of a sudden, she wasn’t alone in the kitchen. Gerard was digging through the cupboards and pulled out a pack of fruit cups. 

“Where’s Zoe?” he asked.

“Mikey took her for her walk.” Since Frank had broken his arm, Donna had had Mikey walk the dog since the sidewalks were often icy. She didn’t want Frank to slip and break his other arm, or one of his ankles or his leg.

“When he gets back, bring her down, okay?”

“He’s really upset, huh?” Donna asked, shaking her head and handing the cup of tea to Gerard.

“Wants to kill himself again,” Gerard muttered. “Doesn’t think you like him. Thinks Dad hates him—”

“Your father loves Frank and he knows it,” Donna muttered. Don had been partial to the idea of Frank moving in with them, but any doubts he’d had disappeared as soon as they’d gotten the dog. The idiot had wanted a dog for years and Frank was now his excuse to have one…

“Frank doesn’t know anything right now except his mother hates him and everyone else should, too.” 

“I can’t believe the nerve that woman has,” Donna hissed. “She knows better than to send this shit and she keeps doing it.”

“You shouldn’t have given him that letter,” Gerard said, passing her a cold glance.

“Gerard, I had no choice. It’s illegal to withhold his mail.”

“Even if it drives him to suicide?”

“Apparently so, Gerard. I can’t help it. I’m not going to risk having Frank taken away from me.” 

Gerard sighed heavily and shook his head. 

“Just…remember to bring Zoe down. Frank needs her,” Gerard said before carrying the cup of tea and fruit cups downstairs.

Donna slowly walked over to the doorway and paused at the top of the steps to listen for Frank, trying to gauge how upset he really was. 

“Here, Baby,” she heard Gerard say. “I brought these for you.”

She heard Frank whisper a word of thanks—then she heard them kiss. 

At first she thought she was mistaken, then the sound came again followed by the creaking of the bed as Gerard sat down beside Frank. 

_No,_ she thought. Over and over. _No._ Frank was _her_ son, her _child._ Gerard should not be down there _kissing_ him and calling him _Baby._

Donna started down the steps and the sounds immediately stopped except for Frank sniffling. She fixed Gerard with a stern, knowing stare—and knew her message got across when his eyes went wide—then she turned to smile softly at Frank. 

“I’m going to start making dinner soon. Is there anything you want?”

Frank shook his head and continued to press himself into Gerard’s chest. 

“Alright. Well, I’ll be upstairs if you need me.” She gave Gerard another stern glare and then went back upstairs. She waited at the top of the stairs and rolled her eyes when she heard them kiss yet again. 

Something needed to be done about this….

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard tried to keep his nerves to himself throughout dinner and even the time after that. Frank spent a bit of time upstairs with Mikey to do homework and Gerard, attempting to avoid a confrontation, decided to go out for a cup of coffee so his mother couldn’t get him alone.

She must’ve been hovering after Gerard had come upstairs for the tea and fruit cups. She’d heard them kiss—he knew that much—but she must’ve heard something else if she realized right away that it wasn’t a kiss on the cheek. She wouldn’t have stored downstairs and glared at him the way she had if there was a doubt in her mind that the kiss was just innocent affection. 

He couldn’t really remember anything else that would’ve been a giveaway… Maybe he’d called Frank by a pet name without realizing it. 

Gerard sighed and leaned back in his seat at the café. He really hoped his mother wasn’t going to kick him out over this. At most, he expected her to move Frank out of his room and put him in Mikey’s instead—making Mikey have to move down with Gerard. 

But it wasn’t a good idea for Frank to be alone. Hopefully she knew that. Hopefully she wouldn’t try to put Frank on his own.

His mind kept spinning as he tried to come up with a lie he could tell her—anything at all—that would make the relationship look like a big misunderstanding.

“Hey!”

Gerard’s head snapped up, his eyes immediately locking with the woman hovering over his table. She was wearing a hat and bulky coat, a scarf wound around her face. It took a moment for him to recognize Ellen since she wasn’t in her work polo. 

“Oh… Hey,” he said.

“Are you with anyone?”

“No…” He said, a little uncertain. He didn’t particularly _want_ to be sitting with anyone either, but he wasn’t about to tell her to fuck off. She had dirt on him, after all. 

“Awesome,” she said, taking off her hat and scarf and setting them in a pile of knit on the table. “I’m going to get a latte and I’ll come join you.”

“Cool,” Gerard said, trying not to show his pout. He had too much on his mind to bother with formalities. Why couldn’t she just get her latte and leave? She didn’t have a laptop with her so it wasn’t like she’d come to café with the intent of spending her evening there…

He waited for her to return while sipping his coffee, unable to think of a solution to his problem alone. Maybe Ellen would be able to help…assuming she could look past him preying on an underage, screwed up kid. 

“So—what’s up?” Ellen asked, sitting down with her latte and peeling off her coat. 

“I’m avoiding my mother,” Gerard said, shrugging.

“Oh… That’s _exciting,_ ” she responded sarcastically. “I just wanted to get my caffeine fix.”

“You don’t need to stay here if you’ve got things to do,” Gerard said.

“Do you want me to go?” Ellen asked, cocking an eyebrow. 

“No.”

“Okay,” she said, laughing a little uncomfortably. “So how’s Frankie doing?”

“Well, he was getting better. Then his mother decided to write him.”

“His mother? What the hell did _she_ have to say?” Ellen asked, taking a sip from her latte. 

“Oh, that Frank is a horrible monster who put her in a hell-hole for no reason. That woman’s a fucking bitch. If I could get my hands on her for _one minute,_ I’d bash her fuckin’ head in.”

Ellen’s face went wide with shock, not use to hearing her “corporate professional” threatening violence beyond tackling and calling the cops. 

“She’s not even supposed to be allowed to write him,” Gerard stated when Ellen had no response.

“Then how did she send the letter? Don’t they check that kind of thing at the hospital?”

“Apparently not. She just sends the letters to her mom and then that bitch sends them to us.”

“Frank’s grandma?”

“Yeah. That bitch.”

“Isn’t Frank afraid of her or something?”

“She’s his mother’s mother—she _raised_ that psychopath. _Yeah,_ he’s afraid of her.”

“That whole family just seems so messed up. His mom’s going for an insanity plea, right? What disease do they think she has?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t go to the trial and I don’t want to ask. I’d _love_ to see her locked in prison—some maximum security shit that would make a psych-ward look like a fuckin’ paradise—but it would kill Frank. He thinks she can get help if she goes to a hospital…”

“If they think she can get treatment…then maybe it’s like bi-polar disorder or something.”

“The woman is a psychotic bitch. Until they make—I don’t know—fuckin’ Bitch Be Gone pills, nothing’s gonna change. Being sick doesn’t make you hurt people…”

“I guess that’s true. I know a lot of people with mental illness and none of them would do to a kid what she did to Frank.”

“She wants Frank to speak at her sentencing trial so she gets leniency,” Gerard added.

“Ugh. She hates him ‘til she finds a use for him—then she comes asking favors. That just sick. Poor kid.”

“Of course, he wants to go and defend her. I tried to talk him out of it but ‘she’s his momma,’” Gerard said, adding air-quotes. “He has to stick up for her.”

“She’s got him wrapped around her finger,” Ellen muttered. 

“It probably wouldn’t be so bad if his grandma weren’t in the picture. He knows his mom can’t get to him anymore, but I think he’s afraid if he doesn’t go his grandma will come hurt him.”

“Your mom wouldn’t let that woman anywhere near him,” Ellen said, taking a longer sip from her latte as it cooled. 

“She doesn’t have to be near him to hurt him. He was crying as soon as he started reading her letter. Within, like, two sentences.”

“What the hell did she say to him?”

“That he’s an ungrateful monster, yada yada—he put his own mother in jail, blah blah blah. Oh—and he’s going to burn in Hell for it. Can’t forget that part.”

“Are you serious!?”

“Yeah. She got all pissy that he wasn’t going to his old church and then said it didn’t matter much because he’s going to Hell anyway.” 

“What the hell is wrong with these people? Do they just get off on hurting him? Why would you say that to him?—He’s just a kid!”

“Neither of those women are stable. They _both_ deserve to rot in prison. I can’t believe that she isn’t being arrested for being an accessory to child endangerment or something. She knew about the abuse and she never said anything—hell, she was a fucking part of it.”

Ellen shook her and stared down at her cup.

“Yeah… That’s terrible.”

Gerard was quiet for a long time, trying to decide if now was the time—if it would ever be the right time—to bring up what _else_ was going on in Frank’s life. Ellen cared about Frank. She liked him a lot. That would mean, wouldn’t it, that she wouldn’t want to do anything to hurt him? And reporting Gerard for being a pedophile would be hurting Frank. 

“There’s…there’s something else, too,” Gerard muttered.

“Really?” Ellen asked before taking a drink of her latte.

“Me and Frank… We—”

“Did you make out with him again?” Ellen asked, sounding exasperated. 

“Well…yeah.”

“Leave him alone,” she said in a nearly sarcastic, teacher-esque tone. 

“Why? He likes me and I…I like him, too.”

“He’s messed up, you asshole. He’ll like anyone who’s nice to him.”

“Maybe, but…he really likes me, you know? It’s not just because I pay attention to him and buy him things… We like a lot of the same things—”

“Dumbass, he likes whatever you like. He did the same thing to me when we were putting out stock together. I told him I like Orwell novels and he went on and one for, like, two hours about how great _Animal Farm_ was when he read it in school. He’s just trying to appease you.”

“No he’s not,” Gerard argued, shaking his head. “And quit calling me a dumbass.”

“But you _are_ a dumbass. You made out with him when you were drunk. You took advantage of him. Now you think he _actually_ wants to be with you.” She was glaring at him—the same cold look his mother had given him—not at all understanding that it wasn’t just a fling.

“I love Frank, okay? I love him. I’m not doing this to take advantage of him!—I don’t want to _hurt_ him!”

“He’s underage—he’s _helpless._ ”

“He’s old enough to know what he wants and what he doesn’t want.”

“And you’re old enough to know better. He’s a kid—”

“He’s _seventeen!_ He’s not a fucking ten-year-old.”

“Fine—Okay. Whatever. Just tell me this. Other than the fact that he’s little and cute and _completely_ dependent on you, what do you like about him?”

“That he’s nice—that most people his age are throwing tantrums about not getting an Xbox for their birthday and he gets sick of excitement over _anything_ you give him. That he cares about other people. He loves _animals._ He’s got a brain in his head, which is better than _most_ guys.”

“Those are bullshit reasons,” Ellen said. “You know why I loved my last boyfriend?”

“Because he’d wear a condom?”

“Ew—fuck you, asshole. No. I loved him because he was _spontaneous._ He’d surprise me with cards and cute little notes. And I loved that he was really into working on cars and would fix mine for free. You like Frank because he’s a nice little boy who lets you do whatever you want with him.”

“I love Frank because he’s sensitive and he fucking cares about other people besides himself. Do you know how many exes I’ve had who wouldn’t even listen to me talk for _five minutes?_ Frank will listen all night. And it’s not just a one-sided thing, okay? I listen to him too. He talks about school, he talks about Jamia, he tells me about his mom. I care about him too.”

Ellen sighed heavily and shook her head. “Fine. So you and Frank are…together.”

“Dating.”

_“Together,”_ Ellen repeated, fixing him with a displeased stare. “You’re not dating. He never once told me about you taking him out anywhere for food or anything.”

“I’m the one who took him out shopping for his clothes,” Gerard muttered. “If I weren’t at work all the time I’d take him out, but—”

“You’ve got Fridays off. Take him out then.”

“But it’s cold out,” Gerard said. It was a bullshit answer, but he couldn’t very well start taking Frank out on dates now that his mother was catching onto them.

“Asshole.”

“Whatever—so here’s the other thing… I think my mom found out about us, so I’ve got that to look forward to when I go home.”

“She’s going to murder you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Do you think she’ll make you move out?”

“I hope not. It’s not like I molested him. We just kiss.”

“Yeah, but if you’re seeing him, you’re going to try to get in his pants at some point.” 

“Not for, like, another year or _five,_ ” Gerard said, exaggerating yet not at the same time. By the time he finally did manage to go all the way with Frank, he was certain more than a year will have passed. 

“So all you do is kiss him?”

“Yeah,” Gerard said, shrugging.

“And you’re, what, twenty-eight?”

“Hey! I’m not even twenty-five yet! Don’t say I look twenty-eight,” Gerard said, trying to fight the bit of self-consciousness that rose in his chest. 

“Whatever. The point I’m trying to make is you’re too old for Frankie. You’re more mature than he is, you’re looking for different things from relationships than he is. For him, he just wants someone to cuddle and pass notes with in class—not someone to marry or live with forever and ever. Even if he’s told you that’s what he wants, it’s not true. He’s a kid. He’s never even had anyone like him before.”

“He’s not just with me because I’m the only one who likes him—”

“Gerard, what are you going to do when he meets someone his own age who likes them, too? It’s gonna happen. They’ll have more in common. You and Frank, you’re not compatible. You’re just going to end up hurting each other.”

“Jesus Christ—with your logic I should just never date anyone again ever! Because heaven forbid my partner meets someone younger or more fucking attractive. Maybe all your boyfriends traded you in for a newer model, but Frank isn’t like that, okay? If his mom has made him _anything,_ it’s loyal. He’s not just going to run off with the next best person he meets because he _knows_ I’ll take care of him.”

“But do you really _want_ a boyfriend you have to take care of?”

“It doesn’t matter to me. He’s not as upset as he was before. I don’t have to be on suicide watch every fuckin’ day.”

“Okay, stop getting pissed off because I’m pointing out the facts. If you want to be with Frank and he likes you, too, then fine. I won’t judge you. You know him better than me. But don’t go into this blind. Frank’s young. He’s not as mature as you are. I just don’t want to see either of you get hurt.”

“Whatever.”

“But, realistically, your mom is probably gonna say everything I just said and then kick you in the balls.”

“Yeah, probably,” Gerard said, rolling his eyes as he finished his cup of coffee.

Just then his phone started chirping and when he took it out of his pocket he had a text message from Frank. 

_Why’d u leave? ):_

Gerard texted him that he just stepped out for coffee and would be back soon. Almost instantly, Frank texted back.

_Why’s Mom mad at me?_

Gerard sighed and leaned back in his chair.

“What?” Ellen asked. 

“I think my mom said something to Frank—that or he’s being paranoid.”

Gerard texted Frank that Donna wasn’t mad at him.

_She said she needs to talk to me. ): Did I do something wrong?_

“What’s he saying?” Ellen asked, leaning over the table in an attempt to see the screen of Gerard’s phone.

“I gotta go. My mom told him she wants to talk to him and he’s getting upset.”

Frank kept sending him text after text as Gerard put on his coat and scarf. 

_She’s mad! What did I do??_

_Gerard what did I do? She won’t tell me ):_

_Gerard??_

Gerard texted him that he needed to be calm, and promised him he’d be home soon. 

_She knows I didn’t ask Momma to write me doesn’t she? I didn’t mean to get mail ):_

Gerard threw away his coffee cup and waved goodbye to Ellen before hurrying to the parking lot. 

“Frank she’s not mad you got mail. She’s not mad at you. Please calm down. I’m coming home now.”

_Do you think she’ll take Zoe away? ):_

_I didn’t mean to upset her. ): Please don’t let her take Zoe away!_

“She’s not taking Zoe. I’ll be home in five minutes. Relax.”

Gerard set his phone in the passenger seat and started his car. He did not want to go home for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ellen comes off as a bit of a bitch, but I think you can understand her reservations. I promise she doesn't stay skeptical! As for Donna.... Weeeell... You'll see.


	42. Chapter 42

_Chapter 42_

Frank sat on his bed, holding on tightly to Zoe while he waited for Gerard to come home. As soon as he arrived, Donna said she was going to talk to both of them and Frank just _knew_ she was going to take his dog away. He’d made her angry and now she was going to punish him. She’d never hit him like Momma, but she could take Zoe. It would be the worst punishment in the world. 

Zoe could be put to sleep in a shelter… It would be his fault if his pet got killed and he still didn’t know what he’d done wrong. 

All he could think of was the letter—the awful letter his mother and grandmother had sent him. Donna must’ve read it, too. Now she knew how his family felt about him and she probably hated him too. 

It took all of his willpower not to start sobbing. He didn’t want Donna mad at him. He didn’t want Zoe taken away or to be thrown out of the house. 

If he had the courage, he’d hang himself before Gerard got home—wind his bedsheets around one of the overhead beams and jump off his bed, snap his neck…let it all go away like it should have before. 

Frank held Zoe a little tighter and started to cry. She whimpered and started squirming. When he loosened his grip and leaned back, she licked at his face and put her paw on his shoulder.

No one would ever love him like Zoe did. He didn’t want to have her taken away. 

Upstairs, the front door screeched open and Frank lost his composure. He held Zoe as tightly as he could and cried into her furry shoulder. Donna was going to take his dog away and he would never, ever forgive himself for making his best friend get sent back to that awful extermination camp for dogs. 

He heard Donna and Gerard start talking and wished he had a place he could hide. Maybe Donna would wait until morning to take Zoe. Maybe he could sneak out with her in the night and run away. 

All he wanted from this day was to have Gerard draw on his cast and then spend the evening in bed with his boyfriend—trying new things. Now he was going to be punished for those sinful thoughts. This was God’s message that what he wanted was wrong. God was going to make Donna take his dog away!

He started to shake as soon as he heard footsteps on the stairs. Zoe, not realizing her life was about to be cut short, paid no mind to them and just kept sniffing at Frank’s hair, sometimes licking his neck. 

He wished that when he told her he was sorry, she understood. He wished Zoe knew he never meant for any of this to happen. Zoe would never understand why she would be sent back to the shelter. Frank wished he could go in her place—spend his whole life in a cage so he couldn’t hurt anyone or do anything wrong ever again.

Maybe he should be in jail, not Momma. It was his fault for everything. He should be behind bars, not her. 

“Frank.” It was Donna’s voice, sounding disappointed. “Frank, let go of the dog, please. I need to talk to you.”

“No,” Frank whimpered, hardly sounding at all defiant. 

“Frank, she’s not going to take Zoe away. That’s not what this is about,” Gerard said, coming over to the bed and sitting down beside him. He started rubbing Frank’s back but it didn’t soothe him. “Can you let go of her for a minute? Mom’s not taking her away.”

Gerard started trying to pull him back by his shoulders but Frank refused to let go of his dog. He loved her. He didn’t want her taken away.

“Frank, let go of her,” Donna said, her voice stern.

Frank whimpered and obeyed, hoping that if he were good Donna might reconsider his punishment and let him keep his dog. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, unable to even look at Donna as she motioned at Zoe to jump off the bed. As soon as Zoe was on the floor, the dog scurried up the basement stairs, abandoning him. “Please don’t take my dog,” he cried, wiping the tears off his face in hopes he might look less offensive to Donna. He knew Momma hated his crying. Why would Donna be any different?

“Frank, calm down. I just want to talk to you,” Donna said, sitting down on his other side.

Instinctively, he pulled away and pressed back against Gerard, seeking comfort. It must’ve been the wrong thing to do because Gerard sighed heavily and Donna pursed her lips at him. 

“Please don’t take Zoe,” he repeated.

“I am _not_ taking Zoe,” Donna repeated. “Nothing’s happening to your dog. Now will you please calm down?”

“Why am I in trouble?” Frank asked, shaking even harder when Gerard pulled away from him. 

“You’re _not_ in trouble. I just want to talk to you.”

Frank whimpered, feeling that this drawn out torture was worse than most of the beatings he’d received from his mother. When she was mad, she told him why and struck him until she felt better. Donna wasn’t like that. In some ways, Donna was worse.

“I want to ask you…something personal. And I don’t want you to lie to me, because I will find out, Frank.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you, Momma,” Frank said rapidly. 

Donna’s eye twitched as soon as he called her Momma, but he couldn’t help it—the name had just slipped out.

Now he was going to be punished worse for insulting her—for offending her. 

He couldn’t do anything right…

“What’s going on between you and Gerard?” Donna asked. 

Immediately, Frank’s stomach tightened.

“H-He—He just… W-We—I-I don’t…” Frank’s eyes went wide in shock and turned to look at Gerard for answers, unable to stop stammering in fear that as soon as he went quiet, Donna would slap him for ignoring the question.

“Frank, just tell me. You’re not going to be hurt.”

“I-I don’t know—I… I-I… G-Gerard just—he…”

“Frank…” Donna fixed him with a very stern, knowing stare and Frank started crying harder. 

He didn’t know what to say to her. He didn’t know how she’d found out about what he’d done with Gerard or _what_ she’d found out. Gerard didn’t seem at all startled. Maybe he’d told Donna… Maybe that was how they were breaking up.

Gerard had read the letter and now he didn’t want him anymore because of what his mother had written about him. Gerard hated him—and Donna knew the truth and she hated him too.

Frank wished Gerard hadn’t stopped him from drinking that bleach—he wished Gerard didn’t talk him down every time afterwards. He wished Gerard hadn’t held him at night to keep him from going upstairs to find the floor cleaners…

If he ran fast enough, he bet he could get upstairs and swallow a mouthful of it now before Gerard and Donna even got up to chase him. Maybe they wouldn’t even try to stop him…

“Frank—”

“I’m sorry, Momma,” Frank whispered, wiping his cheeks on the sleeve of his shirt. 

_“Why_ are you sorry?” Donna asked.

“It’s okay, Frank.”

Gerard started rubbing his shoulder and Frank jerked away from him, getting to his feet. 

“I don’t feel good,” Frank whispered, starting for the basement stairs. He made it halfway up the steps, but then Gerard stood up to follow him. Frank knew he’d never reach the floor cleaner in time but still hurried into the kitchen. He wanted to go further—maybe open the door and run away down the street—but knew Gerard would grab him. 

“Frank, it’s going to be okay.”

“Go away,” Frank cried, falling down in the corner of the kitchen cabinets where they met the edge of the oven. As soon as she heard him, Zoe came running in from the living room and licked his face. Frank opened his arms and started hugging her, wiping his tears on her fur. 

“Stop—it’s fine, Frank. It’s gonna be okay. She just heard us kissing,” Gerard added in a whisper. “Just tell her we kiss and it’ll be fine. She doesn’t even know it’s on the mouth. We can—” Gerard stopped his soft whispers when he heard Donna step into the kitchen. 

“Frank, just tell me what’s going on with you,” Donna said. “I’m not out to punish you. I don’t want you upset. But if you’re doing something you shouldn’t be, I want to know about it.”

She wanted him to get himself in trouble? She said she wasn’t out to hurt him, but she obviously was. 

“I-I…” Frank looked over at Gerard who kneeled beside him. Gerard gave him a small nod and Frank let out a quiet whimper. “I…I just… I just kissed him,” Frank whispered.

“Kissed?” Donna asked. _“Him?”_ She gestured toward Gerard and Frank nodded.

“I… I’m sorry.” How was he supposed to lie to her? He never lied to anyone except about _Momma,_ and that was because he had to—for her sake. 

“And why were you kissing him?”

“I don’t know…”

“You know he’s too old for you,” she said, looking at Frank. Then, turning to Gerard, “You know you’re too old for him.”

“Ma, it’s not even like that.”

“No? Then why did you run away when I tried to talk to you?”

“I went out for coffee!” 

Gerard made lying look so easy. He was able to force all the right emotions onto his face—he looked offended and hurt that his mother would suggest he had interest in Frank.

“You ran off…”

“I didn’t feel like dealing with you. I didn’t know you were going to drive Frank into a fuckin’ panic attack!”

“I heard you call him Baby.”

“It just slipped out! He called you Momma because you fuckin’ terrified him. I called him Baby because that’s what I say to guys I take care of! It doesn’t mean anything.”

It was supposed to be a lie, but it still hurt Frank as if the words were true. That the pet name meant nothing. 

“Frank,” Donna said, looking back at him. “Do you have something to say?”

“I just… I just kissed him on the cheek, I… I-I didn’t know it was wrong, Mom. I’m sorry.” He was far more sorry for the lie than he was the kiss, even if the kiss was a far worse sin. 

Though he guessed how much he sinned didn’t matter now. His grandmother had already told him he would rot for all eternity in Hell for all his past sins no matter what he did. He could murder someone or save a child from a burning house and he’d go to the same place… 

“You kiss him on the cheek?” Donna asked. Her face softened—like she was actually considering believing him—and she uncrossed her arms.

“I didn’t know it was wrong…”

“It’s not wrong,” Gerard said, passing a cold look to Donna who sighed and shook her head.

“You’re right. It’s not.” Now she looked embarrassed and Frank felt even more guilty for deceiving her. “I’m sorry for upsetting you, Frank. I just wanted to make sure you were _safe._ ”

“I’m not gonna _rape_ him, Ma.”

“I’m not scared you’ll _rape_ him. For God’s sake! Frankie, you’re sensitive. You get hurt too easily to be kissing people and—and having them call you _Baby_ when you’re alone. And you,” she said, turning back to Gerard, “should know better than to let it slip out.”

“It was an accident,” Gerard said, rolling his eyes.

“Whatever… Frank, can you get up from the floor please? No one’s taking your dog away.”

“You promise?” Frank asked, holding Zoe a little tighter. 

“Yes, I promise. I’m never going to take Zoe away from you—not unless you do something to hurt her.”

“I’d never hurt Zoe!” Frank said, pulling the dog even closer until her paws were in his lap, crushing the insides of his thighs. 

“Then you have nothing to worry about. Get up. I want to give you a hug.”

She came over to him and Gerard hurried out of the way, wasting no time disappearing into the basement. As soon as Frank was on his feet, Donna wrapped her arms around him and kissed his cheek. 

“You need to not be so sensitive, Frankie. Just because I want to talk doesn’t mean you’re in trouble or you’re going to be punished. Okay?”

Frank nodded as he hugged her tightly in return.

“Am I allowed to stay in my room?”

“Yes. Just…stay in your own bed.”

Frank nodded and pulled away. Donna stroked his hair and offered him one last hug before releasing him to go back to his room. Zoe followed him dutifully, wagging her tail.

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard didn’t think Frank would want to have much to do with him at all after everything that had happened. After he left the kitchen, he’d just laid in bed until it was time for his shower before he needed to sleep. Gerard turned off the lights, leaving Frank’s bedside lamp on so the boy wouldn’t trip in the dark and get hurt. He then changed into his pajamas and climbed into bed.

He couldn’t sleep though. Ellen’s words and his mother’s words—and Frank’s mother’s words and her son’s pathetic, sad looks—were all running through his mind forming a horrible chorus. 

He wanted to go back to when he’d been sketching on Frank’s cast and leave it at that. Frank had been so happy—all excited that someone was jealous of him, not realizing how flattering it was for Gerard to know that Frank saw him as some kind of trophy. None of his other exes had ever seen him that way. And, yeah, Frank was prone to be excited to have any positive attention and worship who gave him any affection, but that didn’t make it any less flattering. 

It wasn’t long before he heard Frank on the stairs again, returning from his shower. Gerard, lying with his back to the boy, didn’t expect Frank to even say goodnight to him when the boy kept his silence even after shutting off his bedside lamp.

He listened for the sound of Frank’s bed shifting as the boy laid down, but it never came. Then he felt his own bed shift and Frank was crawling in beside him.

“Hey—everything alright?” Gerard asked, rolling over and wrapping an arm around Frank’s shoulders. Frank started kissing him, missing his mouth and kissing his chin instead. He made a soft noise and then licked his way to Gerard’s lips. “Frank—come on. Stop. We can’t do anything. Ma could be—”

But it was no use. Frank just kept whining and kissing him until Gerard opened his mouth and started kissing him back. Frank was quick to add tongue and before Gerard could really let it sink in that Frank was coming onto him, the boy was climbing on top of him. 

“Hey—Hey, what’s going on with you?” Gerard asked. 

“I want to do what we said,” Frank mumbled, kissing Gerard’s neck.

“Frank—”

“I love you,” Frank said, almost as if using it as an argument in his favor.

“Mom’s onto us, Frank—”

“She’s going to bed,” Frank whimpered. “Please?”

It was hard to say no with the boy sitting on his hips—squirming in his lap, no doubt in response to Gerard’s stiffening arousal. 

“Why?”

“Do you… Do you not like me?” Frank asked.

“Yes I like you,” Gerard said, lifting his hands and grasping Frank’s hips. He pushed down on them, giving in to his want for more pressure between his legs. “You know she could be upstairs listening.”

“She went to bed,” Frank argued, leaning down and kissing Gerard on the mouth again.

“Frank… This isn’t—this isn’t like you. What’s going on?”

Frank grabbed one of Gerard’s hands and moved it over until his palm was overtop the boy’s erection. 

“You said…you’d let me.” 

“Frank… I mean it. Ma could be upstairs.” Despite his protests, Gerard was already stroking the boy through his pajama pants. Frank didn’t have boxers on underneath them like he usually did, proving he’d had this in mind before he’d even gone upstairs for his shower. 

“Please—If she gives me away I want…I want to have something. You’re the only person…” Frank said something else but it was a soft mumble mixed in with a deep moan as Gerard rubbed the slit of Frank’s cock through the fabric of his pajamas. 

“Hm? What was that?”

“You’re…the only person…”

“Only person who…?”

“Who…who I can trust,” Frank whispered. “You won’t…make fun of me.”

“It’s dark. I can’t even see you. How would I make fun of you?”

“’Cause it feels different…in places,” Frank whispered. 

“Aw—Baby, I won’t make fun of you. Come here,” Gerard said, pulling Frank down for another kiss. He let his other hand come off of Frank’s hip and reached up to rub his thumb over the boy’s nipple, immediately extracting a moan that made Gerard giggle. “You’re so fucking sensitive,” he said before pecking Frank on the cheek and kissing his way down his jawline to this throat. “Every single part of you. So sensitive.” 

He pulled Frank’s shirt off over his head, taking extra care to ease the sleeve off of Frank’s cast. 

“So you like having Jamia jealous of you, huh?” Gerard asked, wanting to hear more about how great of a catch Frank perceived him to be.

“Mhm,” Frank moaned, his voice going a little shrill when Gerard leaned up to graze Frank’s nipple with the tip of his tongue. “S-she said y-you’re kind of ho-hot.”

“Just kind of?” Gerard asked before licking him again. 

“She’s a l-lesbian. Sh-she doesn’t know how hot you are.”

“Do you think I’m hot?”

Frank’s answer was a choked off moan as he started rolling his hips forward against Gerard’s palm. 

“C-Can I…” Frank moaned again, but scooted back so his hands could come to rest on the waist band of Gerard’s pajamas. 

“You should let me tonight. You’ve had enough stress,” Gerard said, scooting to sit up and making Frank lie down beside him.

“But I want…us both to…”

“You’re so fucking cute. Do you know that?” Gerard asked, bringing a hand to Frank’s cheek and stroking it so he could find Frank’s lips in the dark now that their positions had shifted. 

“Really?” Frank asked, giggling a little and opening his legs for Gerard to crawl between them. 

“Yeah,” Gerard said, kissing Frank deeply on the mouth and then working his way down his throat to one of his nipples. He loved the sounds Frank would make whenever he’d nip it with teeth—not exactly a yelp of pain when he bucked his hips up in pleasure. 

“I-I want to do it…for you first,” Frank stammered.

“No. Let me, Baby. You need to relax.”

“But… But it’s the only thing I know how to do,” Frank argued—apparently wanting Gerard to know that he could do some things without Gerard having to do them for him first in order to teach him.

“So? I wanna hear the sounds you’ll make.”

Frank let out a loud moan and rolled his head back on the pillows. 

Gerard shushed him, then nipped Frank’s chest one last time before kissing his way down his stomach, loving the way his skin trembled under his touch. He slowly started to pull Frank’s pajama pants down, but paused when he heard the boy let out a quiet gasp. 

“Are you okay?”

“I-I… I think.”

“You think?” Gerard asked, pulling them down a little lower, letting the very tip of Frank’s member poke out over the waist band. 

“I-It’s really ugly…” Typically when they messed around they stayed under the blankets so Gerard couldn’t see anything. 

“It’s dark, Frankie. And it’s not ugly either way. I’ve seen it. It’s fine.”

Frank sighed, not sounding convinced until Gerard ducked down and wrapped his lips around the head of his length. 

“Oh!” Frank gasped, flinching since he didn’t expect the touch. “Oh—Oh, sh-shit!”

Gerard giggled, sucking a little more of Frank’s length into his mouth as he slowly continued pulling his pajama pants down his thighs. He started sucking Frank a little harder, taking more and more into his mouth until he gagged. He expected to hear Frank laugh at him or say something about how he must be out of practice, but Frank didn’t really seem to notice much of anything. He was trying to spread his legs, but unable with his pajama pants holding his thighs.

Gerard would’ve loved to strip them all the way off, but that might give him the idea to take it further—to try to slip a finger or two inside while Frank wasn’t expecting it and show him all of his hidden pleasure spots. Gerard wanted to save some surprises for later though. 

“C-Can—Can, oh—Please, please?”

Gerard rolled his eyes, smiling as he pulled off. 

“What?” 

Frank whimpered at the loss of contact, honestly sounding like he were about to cry. 

“Tell me what you want, Baby.”

“Please don’t stop,” Frank whined. “I-I didn’t think…it felt—j-just please g-go back.”

Gerard smiled and went back to work, licking from the base to the very tip, kissing and suckling the tip until Frank started leaking. 

“Sh-shit. P-Please—please, please.” Frank kept moaning more and more nonsense, bucking his hips up until Gerard took him in his mouth again. He was able to go further down this time before gagging. 

That year off from dating was really dampening his skills… Frank didn’t seem to notice at all though, still too busy moaning and whimpering. 

Gerard really, really wanted to hear what he’d sound like once he learned where his prostate was. 

Unable to resist, Gerard pulled off—chuckling at Frank’s soft cry—and took Frank’s pajama pants off. Frank immediately brought his knees up and together as if to shield himself, all his little moans getting choked off into silence.

“What’s the matter?” Gerard asked, trying to part Frank’s knees. The boy wouldn’t budge. “Frank?”

“I don’t… I don’t like…this,” Frank whispered.

“This?—What the…the sex stuff?”

“Laying like this,” Frank mumbled. “It’s how Momma hit me.”

“Well, I’m not gonna hit you,” Gerard said crawling up to kiss Frank on the mouth. “I’m here to kiss you better.”

Somehow it got Frank to giggle, but it took a few kisses to his throat and more than a few minutes kissing and sucking his nipples before Frank started moaning and opened his legs again. Gerard sucked on the tip and kept his tongue pressed to the slit, making Frank’s back arch off the bed. He pulled off just for a second, just to soak his index finger in spit, and then swallowed around Frank’s cock.

“Oh—f-fuck,” Frank moaned, even sounding modest when he cursed from pleasure. 

Gerard reached down and carefully slid his finger over the boy’s pucker. Frank gasped, his entire body trembling and then going rigid—his hole even tightening as Gerard pressed his finger against it.

“Wh-What—What are you d-doing?” Frank asked, squirming as Gerard swallowed around him again and pushed his finger inside. Frank gasped and started pulling away even though the intrusion couldn’t have been enough to hurt.

“It’s okay—I promise it’ll feel good,” Gerard said, pressing his finger inside a little more. 

“I-I just d-don’t—it feels really w-weird! P-Please don’t.”

“I just want to show you something. I promise it won’t hurt, okay?”

“I-It’s... I-I liked the other stuff m-more,” Frank whined. 

“Can I try?”

Frank let out a long whine but didn’t speak another word of protest. Gerard pushed his finger inside the rest of the way and started curling it, wiggling it around until Frank let out a loud yelp.

“F-Fuck! Fuck! Oh—fuck! _Fuck me._ ” Frank’s head fell back against the pillow and he brought his left hand to his mouth, biting into his fingers. 

“You like that?” Gerard asked, rubbing against that spot and sucking Frank’s cock back into his mouth. The mixture of sensations made Frank start sobbing. Gerard would’ve stopped, thinking the boy were uncomfortable or feeling scared, if the boy didn’t keep moaning “fuck me, fuck me” into his knuckles. Gerard wished he could—he wished Frank actually meant what he was saying instead of just throwing words together—he wanted to so bad. But all he could do was thrust his finger in and out until the boy started sobbing heavily, thrusting up into Gerard’s mouth as he came.

Gerard kept moving and curling his finger even as Frank was coming down from his orgasm. He liked to feel Frank’s muscles flutter around him until the boy pulled away and rolled onto his side. He was still crying and Gerard took a brief moment to spit out the seed in his mouth into his bed sheets. 

“Are you okay, Baby?” Gerard asked, crawling up Frank’s side and stroking his hair with his clean hand. Frank immediately latched onto him and pressed his head under Gerard’s chin, tangled their legs together so there was hardly a space between them. “You okay?” Gerard asked again.

Frank nodded and let out a low cry. Gerard squeezed him tighter and kissed the top of his head. 

“You’re crying.”

“It feels good,” Frank whimpered. 

“So then why are you crying?”

“Because it feels so good,” Frank moaned. “It’s sin and it feels good.”

“It’s not sin,” Gerard whispered.

“It doesn’t matter,” Frank said. “I’m going to Hell anyway. I may as well earn it, right?”

“You’re not going to Hell,” Gerard said, kissing him on the forehead. 

“I’m still shaking,” Frank whispered, laughing a little and cuddling closer. 

“I know,” Gerard said, smiling at him. “Did you like that?”

“Yes,” Frank said, sniffing. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Baby,” Gerard said, kissing his head again since Frank wouldn’t move to allow him a kiss on the lips. 

“I’m really tired…”

“So go to sleep,” Gerard whispered, giggling as he nuzzled Frank’s hair. Frank was so fucking perfect. And so fucking _soft._ Gerard couldn’t help but run his hands up and down Frank’s side, feeling his skin ripple under his fingers. He had Frankie—his precious Frankie—naked in bed beside him, save for the cast concealing his left arm.

Then it dawned on him—he couldn’t let Frank sleep beside him. There was no doubt in his mind that his mother would come down in the morning to wake them herself, to make sure that Frank was asleep in his own bed and not being seduced. 

“I was supposed to do it for you,” Frank whispered, nuzzling Gerard’s neck.

“Well, I think you should sleep. We’ll have more time maybe tomorrow,” he said, kissing Frank’s forehead. “Or Friday.”

“Friday?”

“Yeah. I want to take you out Friday. Maybe we’ll go to a movie or something.”

“Mhm,” Frank murmured, falling asleep. Gerard sighed and rolled over so he could reach his cell phone. While Frank snuggled into his chest, Gerard set his cell phone alarm for four-thirty in the morning. Frank needed to be close—he needed comforted—but they couldn’t get caught like this, and it was doubtful his mother could come downstairs before five to catch them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kind of embarrassed that one day in this fic-verse has spanned three chapters. But it's almost Christmas time in the (Mama)-verse.


	43. Chapter 43

_Chapter 43_

Gerard’s phone beeped at four-thirty and he had to pry his arm out from under Frank’s head to shut it off. Frank whimpered at the loss of contact and squirmed closer, draping his bare leg over Gerard’s hip. Gerard sighed and wrapped his arm around Frank’s shoulders, squeezing him tight before letting go.

“Baby, you need to get dressed and go to your own bed,” Gerard muttered, nuzzling Frank’s hair.

Frank moaned and then wormed his way on top of Gerard, lying with his head on his chest and his arms hooked under his boyfriend’s shoulders. 

“Baby…you gotta get dressed,” Gerard repeated, kissing the top of Frank’s head.

“No,” Frank moaned, nuzzling Gerard’s chest and sighing sleepily. 

“Mom’s gonna come down and check on us. You gotta get dressed.” 

“I’m warm,” Frank whispered. “Don’t wanna move.”

“Baby, you have to,” Gerard said, rolling over so Frank was on his side again.

“No,” Frank whimpered, sleepily clinging closer. It was cute, Gerard _loved_ it, but it wasn’t safe. If his mother came downstairs and saw them like this, he would get kicked out of the house and Frank would be devastated. He’d blame himself and probably attempt suicide—and though his parents had gotten better at keeping an eye on him, they could never protect Frank the way he did. 

“Frank. I mean it. Mom’s going to come down here. Get dressed.”

“No…” Frank protested, almost daring to sound irritable as he squirmed against Gerard’s chest. Suddenly his behavior seemed more childish and stubborn than affectionate.

“Frank.” Gerard pulled away and a yanked the blankets off of Frank’s shoulders. The boy let out a shrill cry and immediately lowered his hands to cover himself even though the room was still dark. 

“Gerard—I’m _cold._ Give them back,” Frank whined, meaning the blankets.

“No. Get dressed before Mom comes downstairs.”

“Gerard, I don’t want to!” Frank said, still whining and trying to get the blankets back.

“Quit,” Gerard said, sitting up. Frank obviously didn’t realize how serious this was. Even if he was tired he didn’t need to be so immature. If they were caught, the consequences would be devastating to both of them. Gerard would probably be kicked out of his own home—he would be traded for Frank. “Get dressed, Frank.”

“No,” Frank whimpered, seizing the blankets and pulling them back over his shoulders. 

“Frank! Get your clothes on.”

“No,” Frank said, voice barely audible as he snuggled into the blankets.

Gerard rolled his eyes and sighed in irritation. He got up from the bed and threw on the lights, making Frank groan and cover his head with the blankets. He looked around the floor for Frank’s pajama pants and threw them onto the bed. 

“Get up.”

“No.”

“Frank!”

“Come lay down,” Frank whimpered. “It’s cold.”

“Stop it. I told you to get up. Mom’s going to come down here. If she sees you _naked_ in my bed, we’re both in for it.” 

“But it’s cold,” Frank said, still nestled down in his blankets. 

Gerard growled and grabbed the blankets. Two hard yanks and he got the blankets off Frank’s shoulders. The boy instantly rolled over onto his stomach to keep his intimate areas out of view and let out an indignant cry of either fear or surprise.

“Get dressed, Frank.”

“Well don’t look at me,” Frank whimpered. Gerard couldn’t help but feel frustrated with him. It was four-thirty in the morning, he was tired, and all he wanted was to get him dressed to go back to sleep. 

“Get dressed.” Gerard said, grabbing the pajama pants up and throwing them onto Frank’s back. The boy whined and didn’t move. “Frank!”

“Don’t look at me,” Frank whimpered. It was another excuse to stay in his bed, Gerard felt. Frank just didn’t want to move—he didn’t understand the consequences of them being caught.

“I’ve already seen you naked! Get dressed!” Gerard yelled.

Frank whimpered and grabbed the pajama pants, but made no further movements to get dressed.

“Frank,” Gerard said sternly.

“Don’t look,” Frank said softly.

“Goddamnit—get dressed. I’ve already seen it.”

Frank let out a quiet noise of pain and rolled onto his side, struggling in his sleepy haze—and because of his cast—to get his legs into his pajama pants. Gerard watched him just long enough to make sure he was actually getting dressed, not paying much attention at all to what was between Frank’s legs. Maybe on a another day when he wasn’t worried about his mother coming downstairs and catching him with his underage foster brother, naked, in his bed, he would take the time to check him out, but not now… 

Gerard didn’t realize it until Frank was shouldering past him to get to his own bed that the boy was crying. 

“Frank…”

“Leave me alone.”

“Frank, I’m sorry—”

Gerard tried to grab his arm, but Frank evaded him and dropped onto his own bed, wrapping up with his own blankets and burying his face in the pillow.

“Frank.”

“Shut up,” Frank said. He was trying to sound stern, but there was no anger in his voice at all. He sounded more like he was apologizing than barking a command. 

“Baby, I just needed you to get dressed. I’m tired. I’m sorry,” Gerard said as he sat down beside Frank on his bed.

“I want Zoe.”

Gerard looked around for the dog, but she seemed to have left the bedroom at some point in the night.

“Frankie—”

“Just go back to back. I’m dressed. I’m out of your way.”

“You weren’t _in the way,_ ” Gerard said, reaching over to rub Frank’s shoulder through the blankets. “I’m tired, Baby. I didn’t mean to…to yell at you.”

“I’m out of your way,” Frank repeated, his voice obviously strained by the pressure of holding back tears. “Go back to sleep.”

“Don’t be upset. I’m just tired.”

“And it’s my fault because I keep you up. I get it. I won’t do it again.”

“That’s _not_ what I’m saying. Stop it. Would you look at me?” Gerard tried to pull the blankets away, but Frank fought him. “Frank.”

“I won’t do it again,” Frank repeated. 

Gerard wanted to insist that he wasn’t really angry with Frank—that he was frustrated, but not mad at the boy—but a noise from upstairs made him quickly abandon his efforts. He switched off the overhead light and climbed back into his own bed. Only seconds later, there were sounds of footsteps in the kitchen upstairs and then the noise of Zoe’s paws on the basement stairs. The dog wasted no time leaping onto Frank’s bed and, as if sensing his unhappiness, crawled alongside his body to lie beside him and lick his face. He whispered something to her and started petting her head.

Not long after that, Donna started coming downstairs. 

Frank was still talking to his dog when she reached the foot of the steps, giving away the fact that he was awake while Gerard stayed still and pretended to be asleep.

“Did she wake you up?” Donna asked, whispering as she believed Gerard to be asleep.

“No,” Frank mumbled before sniffing. 

Gerard began to feel anxious, terrified that when his mother asked him why he sounded so upset, Frank—out of shame or spite—would confess that he and Gerard were fighting. 

“What’s the matter?” Donna asked, going to Frank’s bedside. Gerard watched her shadowy figure through the dim room. It looked as though she put her hand on his forehead, checking to see if he had a fever or if he were sick. 

Frank mumbled something Gerard couldn’t hear and then hugged his dog closer to him. 

“You can stay home from school if you need to,” Donna said quietly, now petting his head the way he was petting his dog.

“No. I don’t want to be here,” Frank said, just loud enough for Gerard to hear him clearly.

“Oh… Alright,” Donna said, obviously confused by the statement but not willing to pry. “I’m going to start breakfast in a little bit. Is there anything you want?”

“I’m not hungry,” Frank muttered.

“You need to eat or you’ll be tired at school.”

Frank was quiet, continuing to pet his dog.

“I’ll make you something light, okay?”

“Okay,” Frank whispered. 

Donna left the room and went back upstairs. Gerard stayed quiet until he heard the water heater kick on in the back corner of the basement, the tell-tale sign that his mother had gone upstairs for her shower.

“Frank?”

The boy didn’t answer.

“Frank, come on…”

“What?” Frank asked, his voice pained.

“I’m not mad at you… I’m sorry.”

Frank said nothing, but shifted to pull his blankets closer to his face. He then started whispering to his dog and kissed her on the nose.

“Frank.”

“I’m out of your way. Just leave me alone,” Frank whispered.

“You were never _in my way._ I wasn’t mad at you.” Gerard got up and came to sit beside Frank on his own bed. Frank whimpered and shifted away. “Frank… I didn’t meant to hurt you. I just didn’t want caught, you know?” 

“Shouldn’t have slept in your bed,” Frank muttered. “It’s not my place.”

“I don’t _care_ if you sleep in my bed—just not when Mom’s going to come checking. I don’t want kicked out. I don’t want yelled at by her. Do you know what could happen if she saw you in my bed like that?”

“I said I was sorry,” Frank whispered. 

“I’m not trying to… Frank, I don’t want you to _apologize._ I just want you to understand. I wasn’t mad at you.”

“It’s okay. I should’ve gone to my bed last night. I just…”

“You wanted to be close. I know,” Gerard said, trying to sound as gentle as he could. 

“I’m stupid… I won’t do it again.” Frank sniffed as soon as the words were out, crying again. 

“That’s not what I’m trying to say,” Gerard snapped. He didn’t want Frank to lie there and get mixed up in more self-pity and self-loathing. 

“I don’t…” Frank paused as if reconsidering what he planned to say, but then sniffed and finished speaking. “I don’t belong in your bed. I won’t—”

“Stop! I just didn’t want us caught. I know you were tired and I’m sorry I yelled at you. But I don’t want you to beat yourself up over it.”

Frank was quiet besides his occasional sniffling. 

“Baby, I’m sorry if I—”

“I just wish you didn’t watch me,” Frank murmured, his voice broken up with tears. 

“I wanted to make sure you got dressed,” Gerard said, petting Frank’s hair only to have the boy pull away. 

“I would have if you were looking,” Frank whispered before letting out a soft sob. “I didn’t want you to watch me.”

“I didn’t look at it—”

“Yes you did!” Frank argued. “I saw you.”

“Frankie, you have to know by now that it doesn’t bother me. I don’t think you’re ugly—”

“I don’t care!” Frank snapped. His voice became so harsh that Zoe jumped off the bed and ran back upstairs to the kitchen, leaving Frank calling after her meekly. 

“Okay—Okay, Frank. I understand. I’m sorry,” Gerard said, getting up from the bed and giving Frank his space. 

Frank didn’t say anything. He sniffed back tears every now and then and kept pulling his blankets up higher and higher until they were over his head. He didn’t even move when Donna called him upstairs for breakfast. He didn’t move until Gerard had dressed and left to go upstairs. Even then, he made himself a plate—not making eye contact with anyone—and took his plate down to his room. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank sat on the floor of Jamia’s bedroom, holding her pug in his lap but staring past it at the floor. He didn’t have permission to stay out and Donna had been trying to call him for over an hour. Mikey did, too, but Frank didn’t answer. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. 

He knew he would probably get grounded again for running away, but he didn’t care. That morning, it felt as though all of his happiness had been taken away from him. That night he’d been so happy—feeling so warm and safe—he’d just wanted to hang on to that feeling a little longer. He knew he needed to go back to his own bed, but he wanted to be close. He wanted held more and to get more kisses before doing what he was supposed to. 

Only his stubbornness had made Gerard angry. He made his boyfriend so angry that he turned on the light and stole the blankets away from him, exposing him when Gerard _knew_ how desperate Frank was to remain modest and unseen. 

Frank had felt so vulnerable in that moment. He didn’t know if Gerard would continue to yell at him when he started to get dressed, or if he would start to hurt him. Maybe beat him like Momma…

“Your phone’s ringing again,” Jamia said, looking over at it on the floor. She was rolling a cigarette back and forth between her fingers, contemplating lighting it even though the window wasn’t open and the smell would stay in her room. “Are you going to tell me what happened or are you just going to ignore me?”

“Gerard got mad at me today,” Frank confessed.

“About what?”

“I didn’t want to get up,” Frank mumbled, knowing how stupid and immature he sounded…how stupid and immature he was. 

“Um… Is he now your mom or something? Why did he get pissed off because you wouldn’t get up?”

“It’s not like that,” Frank said softly. 

“Then what is it like?” Jamia asked. Frank was certain he was wearing out her patience, just like he wore out Mikey’s and Gerard’s and Donna’s—and everyone else’s. 

“I was in his bed…” Frank confessed. “Yesterday, Donna said…said she heard us kissing and we almost got caught.”

“Oh, shit. How’d you get out of that?”

“I lied to her,” Frank said, the guilt still gnawing at him. He knew that if he told her the truth then he and Gerard both would suffer for it, but he didn’t like lying. Especially not to someone as loving and caring as Donna. She deserved so much better.

“What did you say? A kiss sounds like a kiss.” Jamia laughed a little, trying to break the tension.

“I said I kissed him on the cheek.”

“That’s still weird for brothers to do,” Jamia said. 

“I know, but…she wasn’t _as_ bothered by it…”

“So then what happened?”

“Well… We got out of trouble, but Donna doesn’t want me to sleep in his bed anymore—”

“Wait—she’s seen you in bed together, but she’s _never_ thought anything of it?”

“No,” Frank said, knowing how pathetic he sounded and not wanting to admit that he was suicidal and Gerard kept him close at night to know if he tried to make an attempt.

“Okay…” Jamia said, sounding skeptical. “So you got out of trouble, and then immediately got in bed with him? You’ve got some real balls, Frankie,” she added, laughing.

“We… We messed around and I fell asleep,” Frank said quietly. “I just wanted to be close to him…”

“Well, yeah,” Jamia said. “You deserve to cuddle after. It just sucks you fell asleep. Did she catch you?”

“No… Gerard set an alarm and tried to get me up, but I didn’t want to. I was just messing around,” Frank whispered. “I was going to get up just…not yet.”

“And he got mad at you for that?”

Frank nodded and held the pug dog a little tighter. “I knew he was getting mad but…I thought he’d…” He’d hoped Gerard would suddenly stop and just go back to holding him—but that was a foolish thought. Stupid, and the product of a mostly sleeping brain. He didn’t want to admit how stupid he was to his friend. 

“You thought he’d let you win. Yeah, I get that,” Jamia said, nodding. 

“He just got mad… I feel stupid. I knew Donna would come check on us, but I just… I don’t know. I wanted to stay there. I liked being close to him.” 

“He should understand that. What did he say?—Why do you think he’s mad?”

“He yelled at me and…” Frank hesitated to confess that he’d been naked and Gerard had stolen the blankets. “He watched me to make sure I got dressed and…it made me uncomfortable.”

Skipping the details seemed ineffectual because Jamia just stared at him in confusion. 

“Because I went to sleep without clothes,” Frank mumbled. 

“Yeah, I get that part. You’d slept with him—I get you were naked—but why do you care if he saw you get dressed? It’s flattery. Means even when he’s mad he wants to see you.” Jamia smiled at him and nudged his shoulder before returning her focus to the cigarette between her fingers. 

“I don’t like him to see me,” Frank said. “He knows that.”

“But you guys have sex. He’s seen you naked.”

Frank glanced at her and then looked back down at the dog. He didn’t know how to explain it to her. Yes, Gerard had seen him naked, but not because he’d wanted him to—it was because he’d been passed out. 

“He _has_ seen you naked, right?”

Frank decided to shake his head no. It wasn’t exactly the truth, but he’d never actually _let_ Gerard see him naked. Now he doubted he ever would. It didn’t matter if Gerard said he didn’t think Frank was ugly. Frank knew what he was. He knew no one could possibly look past those scars—scars that made him look diseased. It was hard enough to keep himself from believing that Gerard had gotten angry with him _because_ of what he’d seen or what they’d done the night before. Even with the lights off, what if Gerard had seen something—or felt one of the rough patches—and became disgusted? 

“Oh my god. You’ve slept with him, but you won’t let him see you naked?” Jamia asked.

Frank shrugged.

“Aw! You’re so adorable,” she added, giggling at him. “Why not, though? It’s not like you’re ugly.”

“I’m fat,” Frank said, finding that much easier to confess than mentioning his scars and discolorations. 

“Hey! You’re skinnier than me—what the fuck are you trying to say?” Jamia said, laughing rather than sounding angry. “And he’s bigger than you. What the hell?” She kept giggling at him, as if she thought it would make him feel better somehow. 

“I’m…I’m messed up,” Frank muttered.

“Messed up? You’re _fine._ ”

“No… I’m messed up. I have…scars and stuff from Momma.” He had told her some details about his mother over the past few months of their friendship, but nothing too personal. After a while, avoiding the subject became impossible and when Jamia asked him why he was staying with Donna instead of his mother, he’d admitted the truth. At first he just said his mother was sick and had to go to the hospital. Then he added on that she had hurt him and he’d been taken away. 

“Oh…” Suddenly, Jamia’s demeanor shifted and she passed him a sympathetic glance. “I’m sure he understands. He won’t make fun of you.”

“It’s really bad,” Frank whispered. “I can’t even look at it. If he saw…” God, how he wished Gerard hadn’t seen before. “He wouldn’t like me at all.”

“That’s not true. He loves you. Couples fight all the time. He was probably just tired.”

“He watched me change. He knows how I feel about that…”

“Maybe he was using it as an excuse to see you… Or maybe he was just mad and not really looking.”

“It hurt me,” Frank whispered. 

“Well, you’ve gotta tell him that.”

“I did… This morning.”

“Did he listen?”

“I don’t know…”

“Frank, you’ve gotta talk to him. There’s only three ways to deal with this, okay? I know you’re a rookie when it comes to dating, so I’ll go slow, okay?”

Frank rolled his eyes, but she ignored him. 

“One of three—you act like nothing happened and ignore it. You say nothing, he says nothing. Nothing gets resolved and you’re still miserable. Way two—you tell him how you feel and why it hurt you. He says what he feels and you talk about it. Or, there’s way three—Fight like a girl. You passive aggressively wait for a time when he feels vulnerable and then hurt his feelings. Then he knows how bad he hurt you.”

“I don’t want to hurt him,” Frank mumbled. 

“Then you either ignore him and fix nothing or talk to him. You can’t have a relationship if you don’t talk to him.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have a relationship with him,” Frank said, letting go of the pug and grabbing his phone as it started lighting up again. 

“What? Why?—You guys are so cute together!”

“I’m not good enough for him,” Frank said, matter-of-factly. To him it wasn’t sulking, it was just the truth. He wasn’t old enough or tough enough…he was young, inexperienced, ugly, and too sensitive to even hold a conversation. What was there to like about him? 

“Yes you are. Ugh—why are you being so hard on yourself? He likes you. He doesn’t care about scars or how much you like to cuddle in the morning. He’s stressed out—he doesn’t want his mom to catch you guys. Especially if you were _naked._ ”

“I _get_ that. I know it would’ve been bad if she saw me, but…I was comfortable. I didn’t want to move. He had a right to yell at me.”

“We’re not talking about that now. We’re talking about you being self-conscious. You’ve got scars—I’m sure he has some too. Have you seen him naked?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No!”

“Your guys’ bedroom life is really lame.”

“Thanks.” 

“It’s true though. You haven’t even seen each other naked but you’re having sex.”

“Well, we’re not really having sex either. We just…mess around.”

“Okay, as fascinating as this is, it doesn’t matter. Let’s stay focused.” Jamia put her cigarette behind her ear and clapped her hands together. “So, you need to talk to Gerard. Tell him how you feel.”

“He knows how I feel. It doesn’t make a difference.”

“Why not?”

“Because I made him mad! He’s not going to just get over that.”

“Why not? It’s not like you killed his first born child, you just didn’t want to get out of bed. You’re freaking out for no reason.”

“I don’t like people being mad at me,” Frank said quietly. 

“People get over being mad. You were mad at me for like three weeks, then you got over it. Right?”

“Yeah, but…people stay mad at me. Momma… Momma never forgave me for anything.”

“Your mom is sick, though.”

“She still hates me. I don’t want Gerard and Donna to hate me.”

“Then you might want to answer your phone,” Jamia said, watching as the screen lit up yet again from an incoming call. 

“I don’t have anything to say to Donna,” Frank muttered, watching as the screen went dark. 

“You’re make this so much worse trying to avoid it. Why don’t you just tell her you went out?”

“Because I don’t want her to know where I am.”

“Why?”

Frank shrugged. He wasn’t going to admit that it was because he didn’t know if he planned to go home at all. Part of him wanted to wander the streets and disappear. 

“Frank, my parents will come home soon. You can’t stay here all night…”

“I know,” Frank said, passing one last, forlorn look at the pug dog sleeping in front of him.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank checked his phone as he walked back to his home. Donna’s home. _Gerard’s_ home. He had eight missed calls from Donna, three from Gerard, and the last call he’d dismissed had been from Don. That scared him. He didn’t often speak to Don, but he knew the man was less likely to show compassion when he was irritated. And having Frank disappear and worry Donna sick had to have irritated him. 

Apart from the calls, he’d gotten countless texts from Mikey and Gerard both. Mikey just kept saying “Where r u” and “Mom wants u 2 call her.” Gerard kept saying Frank needed to come home or answer his phone. Donna was going to call the cops. He needed to tell them if he was still alive. There was nothing about that morning. No apologies, no pleas for forgiveness. 

It just further drove the point home that Frank was the one in the wrong. From the moment they’d woken up that morning, Frank had ruined everything. 

He probably wouldn’t even have a boyfriend when he got home. Gerard would probably have moved out willingly, just to avoid him. 

Frank stared at the front door a moment before opening, and no sooner had he turned the knob did Donna appear before him. He was grabbed by the front of his coat and pulled inside, the door slammed behind him. 

“Where the hell were you, Frank!? I was worried sick!” Donna shook him by his coat, then put a hand on his cheek in order to tilt his head and force him to look her in the eye. 

“Don’t have anything to say?” Don said. Frank looked past Donna and saw the man coming into the room. Gerard was behind him, and as soon as Frank laid eyes on him, he dropped his gaze.

“Where were you?” Donna asked again.

“With Jamia,” Frank mumbled. 

“And you couldn’t tell me that? Is your phone broken?” Donna asked. She was glaring at him and Frank wanted to cry, but he felt so numb to it. All he wanted was to go down to his room and sleep. He didn’t want dinner. He didn’t want to do homework. He wanted to go downstairs and drink the paint thinner Gerard had in his painting kit under his bed. 

“Answer her,” Don barked.

“Dad—”

“You be quiet. Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” 

“I’m not going to work with Frank missing,” Gerard argued. 

“Why didn’t you answer me when I called you?” Donna pressed. 

“Didn’t have anything to say,” Frank mumbled, staring down at the floor. He could hear more footsteps approaching—Mikey with Zoe at his side. 

“You’re grounded,” Donna said. “I’ve told you before to _call_ me if you’re going out.”

“Can I go to my room?” Frank asked, not looking up.

Donna sighed heavily and pulled Frank into a hug that he didn’t anticipate. The surprise made him fight her and she let go instantly. 

“Fine. Go,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her. Frank looked up at her apologetically, waiting until her eyes softened to look away. When he went downstairs, she followed him despite her husband’s protests. “Frank, what’s going on with you? You’ve been upset since this morning.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Frank mumbled. Being in her presence made him feel nothing but shame. He didn’t like lying to her, or avoiding her, or worrying her… 

“You’re willing to run away from home and worry me sick, but you won’t talk about it,” Donna said, sounding more than disappointed. “Gerard already told me you two fought this morning.” 

“He doesn’t like me,” Frank mumbled. 

“He told me _why_ you fought, Frank.”

“What?” Frank asked, eyes going wide.

“Yes. He told me you slept in his bed last night. If you were still that upset we could’ve talked about it, Frank. You don’t need to keep it to yourself if you’re hurting or wait to see your therapist. You can talk to me.”

Frank didn’t know what to say. Gerard had told her about them sleeping next to each other, but was that all? It had to be, right? If Donna wasn’t pressuring him for more information about how they had gotten together?

“You really scared me tonight. I thought someone took you—or that you’d gotten hurt.”

“I’m sorry,” Frank whispered. 

“Do you _understand_ that, Frank? Do you get that I was _worried_ about you?—I’m not at you. You _scared_ me.”

“I’m sorry,” Frank repeated. 

“Frank…”

Not knowing what else to do, Frank turned to hug her. She wasn’t mad at him. It was safe to hug her. She wouldn’t trick him just to hurt him like Momma. 

“Why don’t you want to talk to me about it? You know you can trust me…”

Frank shrugged and held her tighter. Not long after that, he heard Gerard coming down the stairs.

“Mom, can you give us a minute? I want to talk to him.”

“Fine,” Donna said, letting go of Frank after stroking his hair one more time. “If you need me, call for me. Okay?”

“Kay,” Frank murmured, trying not to give in to the mounting panic as Donna left him alone with Gerard. 

Unlike his mother, Gerard didn’t hug him. He walked right past him and sat down on his bed. 

“Do you want to tell me why you ran off?”

Frank shrugged and started taking off his coat. He’d left his book bag and all of his homework at school, honestly not expecting homework to be relevant with what he’d had planned. 

“Is this really about this morning?”

“No,” Frank mumbled. 

“You’re lying. Why don’t you want to talk to me about it?”

“Nothing to say,” Frank whispered, sitting down on his bed across from Gerard.

“Nothing to say…but enough to make you run away from home.”

“You yelled at me,” Frank said.

“I know, and I’m sorry. I was tired, Frank. It wasn’t about you.”

“It hurt me,” Frank said.

“I’m sorry, Baby.”

Frank didn’t say anything, but he remembered what Jamia had told him. There were only three ways he could go about this and only one that could possibly help. If he talked about it, maybe they could get better. Maybe, if Gerard didn’t already hate him, they could go back to how it was.

“I was just messing around. I didn’t want you to be mad at me.”

“What?—Today when you ran off?” Gerard asked, daring to look mad.

“No. This morning. When I didn’t want to get up. I was just messing around.”

Gerard didn’t say anything, forcing Frank to continue even though he knew he would just make himself sound more pathetic and childish.

“I just wanted to stay close to you. I would’ve gotten dressed on my own.”

“I didn’t know that. I was freaking out a little. I didn’t want Mom to see you in my bed like that.”

“I know… I’m sorry. It just…it hurt my feelings when you…”

“When I looked at you,” Gerard said, nodding. “I’m sorry. I won’t do that to you again. I promise.”

“I won’t…I won’t sleep in your bed anymore. I don’t want to get in the way again.”

“Baby, I keep telling you, you weren’t in the way. I was out of line this morning. I’m sorry. I don’t want you to be hurt.”

Frank felt so conflicted. He wanted Gerard to come over and hold him, to cuddle and go back to being close—act as if nothing happened—and at the same time he wanted to hide away and never look at Gerard again. He was so embarrassed. He couldn’t act right no matter what he did and he couldn’t comprehend how Gerard still wanted to talk to him and call him Baby.

“Baby?”

“Yeah?”

“I know you don’t like conflict, but you need to talk to me when you’re upset, not run away.”

“I know…”

“Then why did you disappear like that? You could’ve just texted me or called Mom _at least._ She really thought someone kidnapped you.”

“I didn’t want you to break up with me…”

“I wasn’t going to. Frank, one little fight doesn’t mean the end of things. I know you’re used to extremes—I know if you messed up at home you paid for it, but here it’s not like that. You’re allowed to make mistakes. We’ll have fights, it doesn’t mean I hate you or don’t want to be with you anymore.”

“I just don’t get why you’d want to stay with me… I mess everything up. All you wanted was to get up and I…I wouldn’t do it.”

“You don’t mess _anything_ up, Frank! You don’t. There’s going to come a time that I piss you off, and you’ll see what it’s like. Yeah, I get mad, but it doesn’t mean I want us to break up. You were cute this morning. You think I don’t appreciate having you all over me? My last boyfriend couldn’t even stand to touch me, okay? I would’ve loved to have stayed there all morning, but Ma was going to come see us.”

“I don’t get it,” Frank mumbled, shifting a little on his bed. He wanted to get up and go sit next to Gerard, but resisted.

“Get what?”

“He didn’t want to touch you? That’s… That’s mean,” Frank mumbled. Gerard seldom talked about his exes, and for Frank it was an excuse to escape the conversation.

“Yeah. Better than the other assholes.”

Frank stared at him, hoping he’d say more. 

“Had a couple cheat on me,” Gerard mumbled. “That sucked.”

“I wouldn’t cheat,” Frank said.

“Yeah, I know you wouldn’t,” Gerard said, smiling at him a little.

“Not just because I’m ugly. I really wouldn’t—even if someone liked me.”

“You’re not ugly.”

Frank lowered his gaze, wishing Gerard didn’t act like his scars weren’t something shameful. Maybe Gerard didn’t mind them, but no one else would feel that way. They looked gross. They made him look like he had a disease… No one else would understand why he looked that way. If he said his mom did it, they’d wonder what he’d done to make his own mother hate him.

“Baby, you’re really not ugly.”

“I’m all scarred up and gross…”

“What’s it going to take for me to convince you that you’re not ugly? I’ve kissed you, I’ve held you, I’ve had you in my mouth.” Gerard winked at him and Frank started blushing. He was still too upset to be aroused, but the memory made his stomach flutter a little. “Doesn’t that tell you something?”

“I wish I’d gotten to…to do it for you last night too,” Frank mumbled.

“I told you—maybe Friday. I still want to take you out if Mom’ll let me…now that you got yourself grounded.” Gerard fixed him with a disappointed stare and Frank lowered his head. “If not, we’ll just go out next week.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry—just don’t do it again.” Gerard got up from his bed and came to sit next to Frank, wrapping an arm around him and squeezing hard. Frank hugged him back, nuzzling his neck. Gerard kissed him on the cheek, then his neck, and finally his mouth after Frank pulled away. “I love you, Baby.”

“Love you too,” Frank murmured, leaning in for another kiss. 

“I’m gonna go upstairs for dinner. Do you want to come with me?” Gerard asked.

Unable to face Don, nervous that Donna would be mad too, Frank shook his head and laid down for a nap. Gerard turned the light off for him when he went upstairs and Frank felt sleep come easily after the stress of the day.

However, it seemed that as soon as he’d fallen asleep, he was pulled back awake by the feeling of someone’s hands on him. He flinched, but his attempt to pull away was foiled when he was pulled back against Gerard’s chest. Frank could recognize him by his smell even before he felt the small kisses peppering the back of his neck. 

“Hey,” Gerard whispered.

“What time is it?” Frank asked.

“Time for you to get ready for bed,” Gerard said, giggling a little. “You need to get your shower.”

“But I’m already sleeping,” Frank whispered. “Where’s Donna?”

“She went to bed over an hour ago.”

“What time is it?” Frank asked again, sitting up in order to look at his alarm clock. It was already one-thirty. “Why did you wake me up?” Frank wasn’t really complaining though. He rolled over to face Gerard and snuggled down against his chest, using his shoulder as a pillow. 

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“You can’t sleep here,” Frank mumbled, stretching out his leg and draping it over Gerard’s hip. 

“Ma’s not going to come down tomorrow morning. I’ll sleep here, Baby.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. We’ll stay in your bed. Then in the morning I’ll get up so you can stay warm under the blankets.” Gerard started rubbing Frank’s hip, making his cheeks burn. 

“You’re…you’re going to make me be sinful,” Frank mumbled, trying to pull away. Gerard wouldn’t let him go and started kissing his neck instead. “I don’t want to be sinful…”

“No?” Gerard asked, nipping the flesh of Frank’s neck and making him emit a tiny yelp from the surprise. 

“No…” Frank whined. Gerard moved to kiss him on the mouth again, chaste this time.

“Okay, Baby. Go back to sleep.”

Frank sighed and snuggled closer. He hoped Gerard wouldn’t be mad at him for turning him down. But he didn’t seem mad…He was humming to himself and starting to rub small circles into Frank’s back with his thumb. Slowly, Frank let himself fall back asleep.


	44. Chapter 44

_Chapter 44_

The jury…the judge…that _woman…_ They could all rot in Hell. Six years, they decided. She was to spend six years in imprisonment for punishing her ungrateful, demon of a child. He had everyone fooled into thinking he was just so great—so innocent. Even when he came to speak on her behalf, he proved himself pathetic. He shook. He _cried._ He pleaded for them to show her mercy. 

And the whole time he spoke, that blonde whore who came with him to the court stared Linda in the face—scowling at her. The woman had to have realized _by now_ that Frank was nothing more than a demon masquerading in human flesh. She was his guardian now. She’d let him into her home. Didn’t he pull the same stunts for her that he did to his own mother? Didn’t he beg endlessly for attention? Didn’t he drive her mad with his constant pleas? Money. Food. Love. No matter what he already had, that filthy creature wanted more. 

Maybe she used him for sin. That would explain it. Maybe that sick, blonde whore had taken her son to use him to slake her lust. 

Disgusting. 

How had she ever given birth to something so disgusting?

Linda growled as the case reached its end. She was to be taken to an asylum instead of the hospital where she had been staying. It was the hybrid of a jail and a madhouse—a prison for the criminally insane. She was to stay there for six. fucking. years.

All because her worthless son had defied all of her rules and all of her church’s teachings and became a sodomite. A lustful, sinful, _greedy_ sodomite. 

Yes, she did have the chance for parole if her doctors found that she was making progress. She could be out in just two years, her attorney said. But she had to keep in mind, the only way to do that was to use her son.

Yes, he was the one who put her in this position, but he was now the only one able to get her out of it.

So when her child pleaded to be allowed to hug her before she was taken away—and after the judge nodded and allowed it—Linda’s attorney whispered to her harshly that she’d better just hug the child and make a scene of it so maybe, two years from now, the courts might take pity on her and let her out.

“I love you, Momma,” the demon said, latching onto her and squeezing tight. His arm was in a cast, she noted, covered in obscene, demonic drawings of tombstones and monstrous creatures.

She lifted her arms to hug him in return, nauseated as she felt his body heat radiating against her. 

“I’m so sorry, Momma,” he murmured, nuzzling her and squeezing her as if to milk her for affection he did _not_ deserve.

“Hush,” Linda said, trying to sound gentle or soothing. The whole time she held the unwanted product of her womb, she scowled across the courtroom at Donna—the wicked woman who had taken her demon child in. The woman glared at her in return. 

“I’m sorry, Momma. I really am. I didn’t want this to happen,” Frank kept crying, never letting go of her even though the judge cleared his throat loudly to disrupt them.

“Hush now,” Linda said again, forcing herself to lift a hand and stroke the sickeningly long hair on her son’s head. 

“I want you to get better. I really do. I love you so much, Momma.”

“Yes, I know,” Linda said, unwilling to lie and say the words in return. She’d never loved her son. She would _never_ love her son. He looked too much like his father. Acted too much like his father… Sinful. Lustful. Unwilling to take responsibility for anything…

Just touching him made Linda’s stomach churn, but she bit it back for her own sake. Two years in Hell was better than six, and if all she had to do was hug her child the way she’d had to before when she needed him to stop staring at her and crying, then she would do it. 

The boy kept clinging to her until that Donna woman came and pried him off. As soon as he let go the bailiff came and escorted Linda toward the doors. When she looked back over her shoulder, she saw how her son clung to that other woman and it made her sick—even more sick than she already was. 

That woman took her son and made him into her concubine! Even if Frank had become a sodomite of his own accord, the last thing Linda had ever wanted for him was to have him preyed upon by someone older. An adult manipulating a child into committing sin… It was all too familiar to Linda, for her husband had been ten years her senior when he’d offered her an escape from her mother. And she, a young woman—hardly any more than a girl—had agreed, unaware of what physical demands marriage entailed. 

Her mother had never told her about such things. She had no father worth mentioning… Her school had been private and Catholic and _never_ discussed such things.

When Linda had told her mother she’d met a man and she was leaving, her mother had laughed and _laughed_ and grinned at her like a demon. 

“What use does a man have for you?” Her mother cackled.

They loved each other, Linda had said. They loved each other and that was all he needed. 

So young and naïve…and _stupid._

Her wedding night had been a harsh loss of innocence. Not quite a rape, but not anything close to consensual. And that worthless, needy, crying, _clinging_ little monster was an endless reminder of it. 

She’d tried to kill him so many times, but God intervened and spared him.

No. Not God. 

Satan. Only Satan would want to keep such an unholy beast alive.

She’d tried to smother him as an infant. She’d tried to drown him. She’d tried leaving him outside, fastened into his car seat…

But her husband always came home—or came in the room—or went out to the yard and stopped her. The fool never realized she didn’t _forget_ to bring him in from the car after buying groceries. He never realized she wasn’t rinsing his hair _the wrong way_ because she didn’t know any better. 

Her mother knew. Mother knew everything.

And whenever Linda would call her for help or advice, the woman would just laugh at her and say, “Oh, is your marriage not what you thought it would be, little girl? Where’s your prince now? Is he out with his mistress again?”

Yes. Out having fun and leaving her to tend to the screaming, filthy demon he’d forced her to birth. 

Linda watched over her shoulder as the courtroom door swung closed. She watched her child cling to that older woman cry. Watched the woman hold him and kiss his cheek.

Had she used him to get pregnant yet? Was she going to end his childhood at seventeen the same way Linda had lost hers at eighteen? 

“I want him taken from that woman,” Linda said, even though no one listened to her now. “She’s encouraging his sin. I want him taken from her.”

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank held Donna even tighter when he noticed his grandmother walking toward him. She did not look pleased to see him, and though he knew she couldn’t beat him—not here with other people to see—the fear remained. She never hit as hard as Momma, but he knew her to have slapped him across the mouth on more than one occasion. More often for things he didn’t even consider disrespectful or disobedient than not.

“Well, are you satisfied?” His grandmother asked.

Frank felt as though her were two feet tall—completely defenseless and powerless. He’d never meant for his mother to go to jail or end up in an asylum because of him. He would’ve kept her secret forever if she’d let him. If she hadn’t hurt him so badly, he never would’ve told anyone. 

“That’s _enough!_ ” Donna snapped, holding Frank tight enough to crush him and making it impossible for him to pull away from her. She took one arm out from around him in order to shake her finger at his grandmother as if the older woman were a child in trouble. 

His grandmother didn’t like it. Her eyes immediately went cold and he flinched out of reflex. It was the same look his mother got when she had the belt in her hand, and even if she couldn’t hurt him anymore the memories were all still there. 

“I don’t know who you think you are, but you have no right to speak to me that way,” his grandmother said.

“I’ll speak to you however I want. I will not let you hurt Frank anymore. Do you understand me?”

“You wouldn’t stick up for him so much if you knew what he was.”

“What he is? He’s a victim. That’s what he is. I don’t know what you did to your daughter, but you’re just as responsible as she is for this.”

Frank whimpered, wishing he had the nerve to tell her to be quiet before she _really_ set the older woman off. He honestly felt like he might throw up. In one respect, he was in shock that anyone would stick up for him at all, and in another he was terrified of what his grandmother would do to Donna for disrespecting her.

“I did my best to protect my daughter from the evil in this world. She disobeyed me and I made her live with the consequences.” Her eyes landed on Frank when she said it, reminding him that he was nothing more than an unwanted outcome of his parents’ sin. 

“He’s not a _fucking_ consequence,” Donna growled. “He’s a _child._ You _let_ her abuse him. You’re just as responsible, and if you come after him one more time, I’ll make sure it’s you in court next.”

“You need to watch the way you speak to me.”

“No—you need to watch how you talk to me. Frank is _my son._ I would do _anything_ to protect him. If you hurt him one more time, I will take _great_ pleasure in ripping you apart.”

“So now you threaten to harm me? I’m sure the police would be interested in hearing that you’ve threatened me,” his grandmother said, getting a pleased gleam in her eyes.

“I think the police would like to see the letters you send him.”

“They have no interest in my letters,” the older woman said, her eyes narrowing. Frank’s knees gave out at the sight of it, making him kneel submissively on the floor, leaning against Donna’s legs heavily as a heavy pang of dizziness struck him. How Donna could look her in the eyes and not tremble, he would never understand.

“No? They don’t want to see evidence of you emotionally abusing a child?”

“There is no abuse in my letters.”

“Telling a child they're worthless is abuse.”

“Not if it’s the truth,” the old woman said, her lip curling in disgust.

Frank’s stomach tightened and he began to gag. One of the court bailiffs came over then and got between Donna and his grandmother. The case was over, he said. There was nothing else to discuss and it was better for “the child” if everyone let their differences go and go home. 

( ) ( ) ( )

When Gerard got home from work it scared him that Frank wasn’t sitting with the rest of the family in the living room. He’d gone to speak at his mother’s sentencing hearing hoping to buy her some leniency. Though Gerard had tried calling his mother for an update and had been trying to text Frank, no one would answer him. Mikey had texted back that Frank was upset, but wouldn’t say any more than that.

“Where is he?” Gerard asked.

“Sleeping,” his mother said. 

“I told you not to leave him alone when he’s upset,” Gerard hissed, moving to go down to his room.

“I checked on him. He’s _fine._ He’s sleeping,” his mother repeated. “Let him be.”

“Did anything happen that I should know about?” Gerard asked, hesitating at the top of the basement stairs.

“I gave his grandmother a piece of my mind. That bitch dared to get in my face.”

“Did Frank see it?”

“He was right there,” his mother said, hardly sounding pleased with herself. “Made him throw up everywhere after the bailiff kicked us out.”

“Can you _not_ control yourself?” Gerard snapped. It frustrated him so much that no one took Frank’s sensitivity seriously. The boy could have a panic attack over spilled milk. Watching his foster mother and his grandmother get into a shouting match in a courtroom after having his mother sentenced to time in incarceration was more than enough to push him over the edge.

“Hey! That woman was going to stand there and blame him for everything. He’s my son. I’m not going to let that happen.”

“He’s _not_ your son,” her husband said. 

“Yes he is! We took him in—he’s _our_ child. Not hers. She has no right—”

“That whole family is crazy, Donna. He’s not doing that well either. You need to stay out of it, not make a scene.”

“He’s not doing well _because_ of them! Because she sends him letters calling him worthless and evil! I’m not going to just stand there and let her do it in person, too! I don’t want to go down to the basement one day, Don, and find him hanging by his neck.”

His parents began to lay into one another, keeping their voices low and growling at one another. Don was still angry at Frank for running off the week before and not answering his phone. Frank had been grounded, but Don didn’t seem to think that was enough. He’d taken Frank aside and scolded intensely for being disrespectful. He didn’t stop until Frank cried—and even then he only quit when he was satisfied that the tears were genuine and not an attempt to get out of trouble. 

Gerard decided to leave them to it and went down to his room to check on Frank.

The boy was lying on his side and buried under the covers, his face only visible from the bridge of his nose up and he had his hands folded up and pressed to his mouth. Gerard sat down beside him on the bed and started to stroke his hair gently. Frank made a noise in his sleep—a sad little groan—and then opened his eyes, immediately looking up at him.

“Hey,” Gerard said, keeping his voice as gentle as he could. 

Frank just stared at him, blinking many times as he fought sleep. 

“I heard about what happened.”

“She’s not scared of Grandma…”

“My mom’s not scared of anybody,” Gerard said, flashing a smile and ruffling Frank’s hair. 

“They said Momma has to stay in the hospital for six years.”

“In the _hospital_ for six years?”

“They say she didn’t know what she was doing…and her doctors say she just needs help to get better.”

“Six years is a long time,” Gerard said. It was a surprisingly long time to stay committed to a mental health institute. 

“If she does anything wrong she’ll go to jail instead, but if she gets better she can get out in two years.”

“Do you want that?” Gerard asked. Frank nodded right away. 

“I don’t want Momma to be in a place like that forever. She’s not…” He closed his eyes and shook his head violently. 

“Well… It’s out of your hands now. It’s over, okay? So you can relax. It’ll be Christmas soon. Are you excited?” Gerard’s attempt to change the subject just seemed to make things worse. Frank shook his head no and started crying. “Why not?”

“I can’t buy anything for anybody. I only have a little bit left from when I was at work.”

“I’ll help you buy things for Mom and Dad. You don’t have to get them much.”

“I don’t even know where to start… I know Mikey wants that one game and I can afford that, but I don’t know what to get Donna.”

“Mom will like anything you pick out. Don’t worry. We’ll go out next week. I’ll take you and we’ll find something really nice. Okay?”

“Will it be our date?” Frank asked, looking up at Gerard again. Since he’d gotten grounded for disappearing after school, their date had been put off from that Friday. 

“Yeah. We’ll go out for lunch and maybe…maybe catch a movie or something. I’ll see what’s playing.”

“I love you,” Frank said.

Gerard leaned down and kissed him softly, relieved when Frank rolled onto his back and started kissing him, too. Frank reached up to hug him, and didn’t let go even after the kiss had ended.

“Later…. Later after everyone goes to sleep, can I… Can—Can I do…do the thing for you?” Frank asked, trying to look Gerard in the eyes as she asked but ending up looking away after every other word.

“Oh? Why do you wanna do that?” Gerard asked, leaning down to kiss Frank’s neck, hoping it would keep him from starting to cry. He didn’t want Frank to think he was being rejected. Frank couldn’t handle rejection.

“I miss you,” Frank whispered.

“Miss me? I’m with you every night.”

“But we don’t… You make me feel better,” Frank whispered so quietly Gerard almost couldn’t understand him. 

“Feel better?”

“Mhm.”

“I think you’ve had a pretty bad day, so maybe I should do ‘the thing’ for you,” Gerard said, kissing Frank’s cheek instead of his neck. He wanted Frank to understand that their relationship wasn’t meant to be about sex. Frank was too young for that—too hurt for that right now. But more often than not, Frank was the one coming to him—wanting to sleep next to him and thinking the only way to have that was to offer sex or let himself be touched. 

“I don’t deserve that,” Frank mumbled. 

“Do you want me to sleep in your bed tonight?” Gerard asked, wanting Frank to just ask for that—ask to sleep next to him, not with him. 

“Yeah…”

“You know we don’t have to mess around in order for me to sleep in your bed, right? You know if you want me to, you just have to ask?”

“Okay,” Frank said, still holding onto Gerard but looking like he might start falling back asleep.

“So…with that in mind, do you really want to mess around tonight?” Gerard asked, his tone implying that he wanted to discourage Frank from saying yes.

“I want do it for you. Why don’t you want me to?”

“Because I don’t think you’re ready,” Gerard said, hoping he didn’t come off as insensitive. “Because…I want to make sure you’re okay with it and not just doing it because you think you have to for some reason.”

“You wouldn’t like me as much if I didn’t,” Frank muttered.

“What are you talking about? Of course I would.” Gerard moved to lie down beside Frank on the bed, propping his head up on one arm and using the other to play with a strand of Frank’s hair.

It had gotten so long over the past few months. Frank had never mentioned wanting it cut and Donna wasn’t one to argue about hair length so he hadn’t cut or even trimmed it since he moved in. Gerard liked it long. It gave him something to tangle his fingers in when they kissed. And Frankie, the little closeted masochist that he was, always let out an extra little moan whenever one of Gerard’s fingers got snagged and he pulled harder than he meant to. 

“I’m not really good for anything else,” Frank mumbled.

“Now why do you say that?” Gerard asked. 

“Because I don’t do anything else for you. You’re nice to me. You bought me my dog and you listen to me all the time… I don’t do anything for you.”

“You listen to me talk about work,” Gerard offered. “You look at my art. You listen to my music with me.”

“Mikey listens to you talk about work,” Frank whispered. “And you guys likes the same music…

“Mikey’s my brother.”

“I’m your brother,” Frank said, looking him in the eye.

“Yeah—my foster brother. We don’t share DNA. You don’t look like me.”

“I don’t think Mikey looks all that much like you…”

“We’ve got the same eyes at least,” Gerard said. “I don’t know, Frankie. I don’t feel that way about him. I’ll _never_ feel that way about him. And, yeah, part of what makes me like you is what we do together, but…it’s not the most important thing.”

“What’s more important then?” Frank asked, moving to hold the hand Gerard had tangled in his hair. 

Rather than speaking, Gerard leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss onto Frank’s lips, smiling when Frank kissed back. 

“That,” Gerard whispered.

“Kissing?” Frank asked, staring to look hurt.

“The feeling I get when I kiss you. I love you.”

The words made Frank blush and Gerard laughed at him.

“You’re so cute, Frankie.”

“No, I’m not,” Frank mumbled bashfully, looking away.

“Yeah you are,” Gerard said, kissing Frank on the corner of his mouth again and then moving down to his neck. Frank let out a small sigh of pleasure and then buried his face in his pillow. 

“I still want to do the thing for you,” Frank muttered into the pillow. 

“Not tonight. You had a rough day. Let me take care of you instead,” Gerard said, coming to lay down completely at Frank’s side. 

“Can we do the other thing too?” Frank asked, keeping his face hidden.

“What other thing?” Gerard asked, petting Frank’s hair.

“The other thing…”

“Gonna have to be more specific, Baby. What thing?”

“The…the thing,” Frank mumbled.

Gerard chuckled at him and ruffled his hair.

“Frankie… Come on. Don’t be shy. If you can’t even say it, you’re not ready for it.”

Frank let out a low moan and rolled onto his back. 

“The thing we did before…where you—the thing where you touched me.”

“I touch you every time we mess around,” Gerard said, giggling and kissing him on the mouth. 

“But…It was different. You touched me…inside.”

“Oh! That—yeah. Yeah, I can finger you again, Baby.” Gerard laughed and kissed him a little deeper, moaning when Frank reached up to hold him. “Gotta wait til later though, Baby. Mom will come down to check on you before too long.”

“Did I make her mad? Did she say?”

“Make her mad? How would you make her mad?”

“At court… When she fought with my grandma, it scared me and I fell over on her.”

“That’s not going to make her mad at you. My mom loves you like crazy. It’ll take a lot more than that to make her mad.”

“Court was really awful,” Frank whispered, scooting as close to Gerard as he could on the bed and rolling over to bury his face in Gerard’s chest. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Gerard asked, holding Frank close and continuously petting his hair to keep him calm.

“I told them…that I love Momma and that she’s sick, but they gave her six years anyway. If she finishes treatment in two years and they don’t let her go, she’ll be moved to prison for the rest of her sentence. It didn’t matter what I said.”

“Do you wish you didn’t go?” 

“No… I don’t know. I wanted Momma to know I loved her. She hugged me.”

“She _hugged_ you?” 

“The judge let me hug her before she was taken away. She hugged me back. She was really nice.”

“I’m just glad she didn’t hurt you,” Gerard said, wishing it were possible to hold Frank even tighter. He didn’t like the idea that woman had had her hands on Frank again. She could’ve easily yanked his hair or whispered something cruel into his ear—she could’ve driven him to suicide in a matter of seconds. 

Frank sniffled but when Gerard went to ask if he was okay, Frank started kissing his neck and nuzzling him. He didn’t want to talk about it anymore and the only way he saw fit to shut Gerard up was to taunt him with seductive little touches. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank couldn’t control his breathing—he wasn’t scared, but his heart was pounding so fast it hurt. Gerard insisted they leave his desk lamp on so the room wasn’t completely black, but the dim yellow glow made Frank so uncomfortable. He still wanted to do this—he wanted to feel loved—but he didn’t want Gerard to see him. Not yet. Maybe not ever…

“It’s okay,” Gerard kept whispering, over and over as he pulled Frank’s shirt off and over his head.

Frank’s breath caught in his throat—silencing whatever protest had been ready to come out—when Gerard closed his mouth over one of Frank’s nipples. He didn’t know why it felt _so good_ to him when touching Gerard the same way did nothing to the other man. It made him embarrassed, because he was different in a way that made him more vulnerable. 

When Gerard swirled his tongue around the sensitive bud, Frank’s back arched and his limbs started trembling. He spread his legs wider, hoping Gerard would reach his hand down and stroke him but was too afraid to ask for it out loud. He didn’t like to say those kinds of things. They reminded him that he was being sinful. He preferred to get caught up in the pleasure of it and forget—and then curse himself later for being weak. 

As soon as Gerard started reaching down past Frank’s stomach to his waistband, Frank regretted wanting it. Gerard was pulling his pajama pants away and Frank knew what happened next. Gerard was going to expose him. Gerard was going to see up close how awful he looked there. Why would Gerard want to touch him or do anything else if he saw that? 

“It’s okay,” Gerard said before blowing a stream of cold air onto Frank’s wet nipple, making him shudder. “You know it doesn’t bother me.”

Frank squeezed his eyes shut as he surrendered and let Gerard pull his pajama pants down his thighs. He held his breath when he felt Gerard shift and pull away from him. As soon as it struck him that Gerard was looking at him—Gerard was staring down at him, judging him and seeing all the awful marks and scars—tears rushed Frank’s eyes and he lowered his hands to cover himself. 

“No, Baby. It’s okay,” Gerard said, taking Frank’s hands and pushing them away. Frank tried to fight him, but Gerard was insistent. “Open your eyes. Come on. Look.”

“I don’t want to. Can we please turn off the light? Please? You’ve seen—can we stop?”

“We can stop if you want, but after you open your eyes. I want you to look at me.”

Frank caved and opened his eyes, trying to keep eye contact with Gerard but ending up looking down at himself in shame. He was still half hard and he could see the darkened blotches on his skin. Some of the marks had gone away in the weeks since the attack, but not all of them, and not all of them would ever go away. 

“It’s ugly,” Frank whimpered.

“No it’s not,” Gerard said, grabbing Frank’s chin and making him look up. “I don’t think it’s ugly.” His expression seemed genuine, but Frank knew that if Gerard were honest, he’d confess that he would much rather have a partner who wasn’t scarred up and damaged. “I think it’s perfect, Baby. The scars don’t bother me.”

“They’re ugly.”

“No they’re not. Look.” Gerard reached down and wrapped his hand around Frank’s length. The touch hardly felt pleasurable at all when it had to compete with the anxiety in Frank’s mind. “Does that feel good?”

“Yes,” Frank whispered, cheek burning with shame as he continued to bite back the tears. Gerard wouldn’t like him if he started crying like a child. He wanted to be tough, but it was so difficult when he was this exposed. 

“Then I think you’re perfect.”

“It’s—”

“It’s _not_ ugly. I promise you. I don’t think it’s ugly.”

Frank whined as Gerard started pumping his fist up and down, making Frank’s mind flicker between fear and humiliation and the pleasure. 

“Does that feel good?”

“Yes,” Frank whimpered. 

“Do you want me to do more, or do you want me to stop?”

Frank squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his cheeks burning even more. It was a waste to get this far and ask Gerard to stop, even if the embarrassment and shame were eating him alive. He wished Gerard didn’t have to look, but he didn’t want to ruin the night by telling him they had to stop because he was so shy. 

“W-we can…we can do more if you shut off the light.”

“I’m not turning the light off,” Gerard said.

Frank whined, but his noise of displeasure turned to a gasp of fear when Gerard’s hands left him. He knew what Gerard was trying to do, but it hurt Frank’s feelings so much to be treated this way. He started to cry, and as soon as he felt one of the tears roll down his cheek, Frank turned onto his side and curled into a ball. 

“Frankie… Come on, it’s okay.” Gerard started petting his hair, but Frank didn’t want it. 

He wanted the light to be turned off. He wanted Gerard to just take pleasure in knowing Frank had let him see at all, not try to teach him a lesson.

“Hey. No, don’t…don’t get upset. I’m gonna take care of you.”

“I don’t want the light on,” Frank whimpered.

“Okay,” Gerard said, surprising Frank with his answer. “I just wanted you to see that I’m not bothered by it. And…I thought you might be more comfortable if you could see what I’m doing.”

“I don’t want to see. I don’t want to think about it,” Frank said, watching as Gerard got up from his bed to turn the desk lamp off. The room immediately turned black and Frank laid completely still, waiting to feel Gerard climb back over top him. 

“Do you want to stop for tonight?” Gerard asked once he’d retuned to the bed.

“No,” Frank whispered.

“Okay. Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Then I need you to roll over,” Gerard said, placing a kiss onto the side of Frank’s neck. When Frank still didn’t move, he started sucking instead of just kissing and then ran his tongue along the angle of Frank’s jaw until Frank moved to lie on his back. 

Gerard was on top of him in seconds, kissing and sucking his neck until Frank started moaning. When one of Gerard’s hands came up to his chest and returned to fondling one of his nipples, Frank’s hips bucked upwards in want of friction. 

He expected Gerard to touch him, but instead, Gerard grabbed Frank’s left hand and lowered it between their bodies. Frank knew right away what Gerard wanted him to do, but the thought filled him with embarrassment and dread. Why was he supposed to touch himself when Gerard was there? That wasn’t something he was meant to do in front of other people. It was shameful—it was even more shameful that doing it with another person. 

“No,” Frank protested, pulling his hand back.

“Aw, but I can’t touch you everywhere at once,” Gerard said, lowering his mouth to Frank’s chest again and nipping him instead of sucking. It made Frank’s hips twitch upwards desperately and when Gerard refused to touch him, Frank caved and stroked himself. “There you go,” Gerard said, giggling at him and making Frank fill with even more shame. 

He just wanted that bad feeling to go away, but everything Gerard did and said was making it worse. And Frank was scared that if he told Gerard that, the man would just get up and leave him.

“Baby, I gotta get up for a second. I forgot to grab the lotion.”

“Lotion?” Frank asked, his anxiety returning when the bed shifted and he was lying there alone. He immediately ceased touching himself and brought both of his hands to his chest protectively.

As soon as Gerard came back to the bed, Frank could hear the bottle of lotion snapping open and he swallowed hard, knowing what came next. He bent his knees expectantly, spreading them and trying to focus more on the suspense and anxiety than the shame. It was a good anxiety—he knew what was coming and knew it would feel nice. Gerard had never hurt him and he doubted today would be the day he’d start…

Gerard leaned over him again while moving to get himself in position, and leaned down to kiss him on the mouth one more time as his right hand ran down Frank’s inner thigh. 

“Your heart’s beating like crazy,” Gerard whispered, moving his lips along the side of Frank’s neck, making his skin prickle. Frank would never understand how Gerard knew each and every place on his body that gave him pleasure. It was amazing. It was so wonderful. Gerard was like a god of sin. “Just remember to relax, okay? It won’t hurt if you stay relaxed.”

Frank nodded because his throat was too tight for him to speak. He was holding in a moan, but the noise came out as a shrill gasp when he felt Gerard’s fingertip suddenly brush over his opening. It was cold and slick with the lotion, and Gerard continued to taunt him—circling his hole and rubbing against it but never applying enough pressure to push inside. Frank started squirming, daring to rock his hips a little in hopes Gerard would understand it was okay to put it in. 

It wasn’t until Gerard’s mouth closed around Frank’s nipple again that he slid his finger inside. Frank’s hips twitched again hoping Gerard would find that place inside him again that felt so good before. 

He moaned softly as Gerard’s tongue began to circle and trace his nipple. After a few seconds, he realized Gerard’s finger was making the same motions inside of him, stroking his inner walls before he started moving it in and out. Frank let out a small yelp of surprise when Gerard bit his nipple, tugging it a bit before letting go and coming up to give him a kiss. 

“You like that?” Gerard asked. He was still thrusting his finger in and out, and Frank didn’t know if Gerard meant that or the biting—but both felt good so he just nodded quickly, hoping Gerard would understand. “Do you want me to do this more or do you want me to blow you?” Gerard asked, ducking down to nip at Frank’s chest again. Frank wished he could have both—he wished Gerard could touch him everywhere at once—because he hated to choose.

“S-suck me,” Frank stammered, moaning as Gerard bit his nipple hard. It hurt, but it made Frank’s hips buck upwards. “Please?”

“Okay,” Gerard said, kissing him one last time on the mouth—adding tongue but barely giving Frank the time to reciprocate—then moved away. 

Frank squirmed more in anticipation, biting and sucking his lips as he waited for Gerard to do more than gently spear him with his finger. As soon as Gerard’s mouth closed around him, Frank moaned deeply, thrusting his hips forward to get more—tired of being teased. Gerard immediately gagged and pulled off, taking his finger out as well as he composed himself.

“I’m sorry,” Frank whimpered.

“It’s fine,” Gerard groaned, trying to calm his throat. “Don’t—don’t try to choke me, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” Frank repeated, hoping he sounded genuine so Gerard would come back to him.

“It’s okay.” 

Frank felt the bed shift and he was worried Gerard was getting up, then he heard the bottle of lotion crack open again. Instead of one finger at his opening, he now felt two. They stroked him just like the first time, then both entered him at once. It burned, but not badly—at least not at first. The deeper they went, the more it began to sting and Frank let out a quiet cry. Was this punishment for gagging him? Gerard was now going to make it hurt because Frank had hurt him? It was an accident! He didn’t _mean_ to gag him.

“You need to relax.”

“It hurts!”

“Just relax, Baby. It won’t hurt if you relax. You’re really tight.”

Frank’s face grew even hotter and he stopped his complaints. He didn’t like it when Gerard talked about his body. It made him so uncomfortable, yet it was still somehow flattering. No one talked to him the way Gerard did…Gerard could probably tell him he was ugly and it would sound like a compliment. 

Gerard started sucking him again, swirling his tongue around the tip. The pleasure started mounting fast and Frank no longer cared about the burning inside him as Gerard started moving his fingers again. He’d almost forgotten about them until they jabbed against that spot inside him that made his vision go white. Frank’s hips bucked upwards again and he felt Gerard gag around him. Frank wanted to say he was sorry, but couldn’t get any words to come out. All he could do was moan because Gerard had his fingers pressed _mercilessly_ against that spot and the wave of pleasure just wouldn’t _stop._ His legs started shaking and he felt the muscles in his abdomen unfurling. 

They’d just started and he was already about to cum. 

He tried to hold off, but Gerard kept massaging his fingertips into his sweet spot and started bobbing his head up and down. Frank rolled his hips, both trying to escape the pleasure and get more of it, but he heard Gerard let out a noise like a muffled laugh and then the pressure on that sensitive place inside him seemed to triple. He screamed—actually screamed—and then quickly brought his hand to his mouth to stifle the sound. 

In seconds, he was cumming into Gerard’s mouth. Even then, Gerard didn’t take the pressure away and Frank started whining—unable to articulate himself. He tried squirming away, but Gerard still had him in his mouth, torturing him with the pleasure that had become too much too fast. Gerard wouldn’t stop—he just wouldn’t stop—and Frank’s whimpers turned fast into real tears as the good feelings overwhelmed him. 

As soon as he started sobbing, Gerard pulled off and slowly took his fingers out. Frank felt empty without them, like something was missing as his body closed itself back off. The burning feeling came back though, making Frank cry a little harder.

“Are you okay?” Gerard asked, crawling over top Frank’s body and kissing him on the mouth. 

Frank sniffled and then nodded, reaching up to hug Gerard around the shoulders and keep him from leaving. 

“I hope you don’t cry every time. It makes me feel a little guilty.” He laughed despite his words and started kissing Frank’s cheeks. 

Frank couldn’t say anything. All he wanted was for Gerard to lie down on top of him—like a heavy blanket—and keep him warm and protected. It took a while, but eventually Gerard figured out that Frank had no intention of releasing him from the hug. He slowly laid himself down on top of Frank, his weight almost too much for Frank who struggled to breathe. 

“You gonna let me up? Or do you wanna suffocate?” Gerard asked, giggling at Frank who still didn’t release his embrace. “Frankie… Come on. You can’t even breathe.”

Gerard tried to get up, but Frank wouldn’t let go.

“We’ll lay side by side. Come on. I need you to breathe.” Gerard rolled over and Frank clung to him even still, trying to stop the tears—which was much easier to accomplish now that he wasn’t being overstimulated. “I love you,” Gerard said, wrapping one of his legs around Frank’s. 

“I love you, too,” Frank whispered, snuggling as close as he could. 

“Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Burns a little, but…I’m okay.”

“You know if it’s ever too much and you want me to stop, that’s all you have to say, right? If you ever tell me to stop I will.”

“I didn’t want you to stop,” Frank mumbled.

“Okay—but I’m just making sure you know. I won’t get mad—I won’t hurt you worse or do something to punish you.”

Frank wished Gerard would just shut up and cuddle. He wanted to sleep and he didn’t understand how Gerard had enough focus to try to lecture him…

“I want to go to sleep,” Frank mumbled.

Gerard laughed and kissed him on top of his head. “Alright. Can I change my clothes first? And wash my hands?”

“Okay,” Frank said, letting go of Gerard so he could do as he pleased. His spirits sank when Gerard got out of the bed as though he took as of the good feelings with him. Frank pulled the blankets over himself and closed his eyes, waiting for Gerard to clip on the desk lamp so he could see to get dressed. 

As soon as the lamp was on, Gerard went upstairs to the kitchen to wash his hands. Frank watched the stairs, waiting anxiously for him to come back down—and when he returned, Zoe was with him. Gerard patted the bed so Zoe would jump up beside Frank. 

Frank couldn’t help but smile as the dog came up to sniff his face. She seemed concerned when she smelled his tears and started licking his face over and over until he laughed and hugged her. While he cuddled her, he watched Gerard who got undressed across the room. Frank blushed when he saw that Gerard was still aroused. If he hadn’t brought Zoe down with him, Frank would’ve offered to touch him. 

As Gerard was stepping into his pajama pants, he turned just enough to give Frank a nice view of his front—something that never happened. Gerard always kept his back to Frank when he changed, as if he were as self-conscious about his body as Frank was of his own. 

Even in the poor lighting, Frank thought Gerard looked perfect… Even the unkempt hairs on his lower abdomen. Frank had never looked at anyone the way he did Gerard. Yeah, he’d messed around with Kyle, but he didn’t even like that guy. He didn’t think much about seeing him—but Gerard, he thought a lot about seeing Gerard…

When Gerard picked up his left leg to finish putting on his pajama pants, Frank noticed something off about his thigh. There was a dark line—maybe even two more—on the inside of his leg. But almost as soon as Frank noticed it, Gerard caught him looking and pull his pants up faster. 

“Gerard?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Gerard said, his voice low.

Frank felt the words like a slap and he immediately went quiet, holding onto Zoe as pain filled his stomach. 

“Sorry,” Gerard said, clipping of the light and crawling into bed behind Frank, spooning him. “I just… Let’s just not get into that right now.”

“I’m sorry for looking,” Frank whispered, ruffling Zoe’s fur.

“Frank, that’s not… That’s not the problem, Baby.” Gerard pulled him close and kissed the back of his neck. “We’ll talk about it later. I just want us to have a good night. You need rest.”

Frank hummed and snuggled with Zoe. 

“Frankie, come on, Baby.” Gerard was rubbing Frank’s hip under the blanket, reminding Frank that he was still naked. “Don’t get mad at me.”

“I’m not mad.”

“Frankie…”

“You snapped at me,” Frank mumbled. 

“Yeah. I’m sorry.” Gerard propped himself up and kissed Frank on the cheek a few times before Frank rolled onto his back and accepted a kiss on the mouth. 

Not wanting the mood to stay ruined, Frank rolled over so his back was to Zoe (who promptly made her way to the foot of the bed) and cuddled into Gerard’s chest. 

“What’s the…the thing you do that makes me feel so good?” Frank asked.

“The—the what?” Gerard asked, taken aback by the question. 

“The thing… You—you touch it…and then it feels good.”

“Your dick?” Gerard offered, sounding confused.

Frank shook his head. “No. _Inside._ What…what makes it feel that way?”

“Oh!—Oh, that.” Gerard laughed at him and kissed his forehead. “You don’t want to know about that.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re shy,” Gerard said, laughing at him more and making Frank feel embarrassed.

“But…”

“It’s your prostate. It’s sensitive—like the rest of you, to be honest. Do you know I’ve _never_ been with a guy who gets off to having his nipples touched like you do?”

“Don’t say that,” Frank mumbled, blushing hard. 

“Why not? It’s true.” To prove his point, Gerard reached for Frank’s chest and squeezed one of his nipples. 

Frank shuddered and arched away, still too sensitive to do any more.

“I love how sensitive you are.”

“Why?” Frank asked, sulking as Gerard pulled him close again.

“Because it’s cute. You go from being all shy to being all needy. I love it.”

“I’m not needy,” Frank mumbled.

“No? Tell that to my throat. You tried to choke me with that thing a few times.”

Frank blushed hard and buried his face in Gerard’s neck, willing the conversation to end. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Gerard said, chuckling at him and holding him tight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that his mother's trial has been neatly tied up, it's time to go into phase two of this fic. Hooray for legitimate (yes, legitimate not Gerard's a pervert with no self-control) relationship development and (Way) family time!


	45. Chapter 45

_Chapter 45_

“I need to admit something,” Frank said, chewing his lip and looking down at the ugly carpet instead of his therapist’s face.

“Oh?” The woman asked. She sounded surprised. She had a reason to be. Frank seldom offered anything up on his own during their sessions. He didn’t like coming here. He didn’t like talking to a woman about his problems. 

“I…I’ve been seeing someone,” Frank whispered. He’d only told Jamia about his relationship with Gerard, but now he felt he needed more advice than what she could give. She still didn’t know what his mother had done to him and he wanted to keep it that way. His therapist, who definitely understood everything about his mother and her effect on him, was probably the only person who could help.

If he even could be helped. 

“You’ve been seeing someone…romantically?” His therapist asked, her tone sounding pleasant and positive. She always was pressuring him to make more friends. 

“Yeah,” Frank mumbled. 

“Where did you meet?” She asked, probing him for more information so she could begin her assault of personal questions.

“Well…that’s the thing,” Frank mumbled. He was afraid if he told her, she would tell Donna. Even if she _couldn’t_ say anything to her legally, Frank was fearful that in one of her and Donna’s “reflection” sessions, she would say something that would tip Donna off. She was already suspicious of him and Gerard, but Frank couldn’t hand it anymore. 

“Have you met in person?”

“Yeah. We…we see each other all the time.” Frank chewed his lip more and looked up at her.

“At school?”

“No.”

“Is she in school?”

“It’s not a she,” Frank muttered, lowering his face again in shame. 

“Oh. A boy?”

“Yeah,” Frank whispered. Now his therapist knew he was a sodomite just like his mother said…

“How did you meet?”

It was with a great deal of shame that he confessed it was Gerard.

“So how you two…get together then?” 

“I don’t know,” Frank whispered.

“Do you like him?”

“Yeah… I love Gerard.”

“How long have you been a couple?”

“Since Thanksgiving.”

“What happened on Thanksgiving?” She had no emotion when she asked her questions—no intrigue, no more surprise. It was as if she didn’t care.

“You won’t Donna?”

“No. You know I can’t.”

“You can’t tell her.”

“I _won’t_ tell her. Let’s discuss, Frank. What happened on Thanksgiving?”

“Gerard… Gerard got drunk,” Frank admitted. 

“Okay.”

“He…He kissed me. And he told me he liked me.”

“Did you like him?”

“I… I’ve liked Gerard since…since I live with Momma. I didn’t really know him and I knew he didn’t like me back then, but…”

“Did you find him attractive?”

“Yeah.”

“If you liked Gerard and he likes you, why don’t you sound happy about it?”

“Because if Donna finds out she’ll make Gerard leave.”

“Why do you think that?”

Frank told her about how Donna had gotten suspicious of them and how they had to keep their relationship a secret. His therapist asked him if it was keeping it a secret that made him so unhappy and Frank shrugged.

“Do you want to be in a relationship with Gerard?” She asked.

Frank nodded quickly. “Yeah. I love him a lot, but I don’t…I don’t know why he’s with me.”

“I think some self-consciousness is normal in new relationships. Especially if he’s your first boyfriend?” 

Frank nodded in response to her indirect question.

“If he’s dating you, there must be something he likes about you.” 

“We do stuff together,” Frank mumbled, the only reason he could think of to explain why Gerard wanted to be with him.

“What kind of stuff?”

Frank shrugged and mumbled, “Sex stuff.”

“So it’s a physical relationship?”

“Yeah.”

“When did that start?”

“Thanksgiving,” Frank mumbled.

“Can you tell me a little more about that day?—About how you and Gerard…started your relationship.”

Frank mumbled out the story, staring down at his hands which had started shaking. 

“It sounds to me, Frank, that he…talked you into doing things you might not have wanted to do.”

“No,” Frank said, shaking his head quickly. “I-I wanted to, I just…I’m shy.”

“I’m not saying he forced you, but that he might have _convinced_ you to take things farther than you might have been ready for.”

Frank was quiet for a moment and then nodded. “But that’s what people in relationships do…”

“Is it what you want to do?”

“I don’t like to be sinful…”

“To be sinful?”

“To do…the sex things,” Frank mumbled.

“Have you told Gerard you don’t want to have sex anymore?”

“It’s not that… I don’t know,” Frank said, groaning in embarrassment and frustration.

“What is it you don’t like, Frank?”

“I don’t like being sinful.”

“You don’t like having sex?”

“I don’t like being sinful,” Frank repeated.

“Do you like having a physical relationship with Gerard?”

“It…It feels good,” Frank mumbled, blushing. “I like… I like how close we get, you know? And he’s always really nice about it. I feel safe with him and I know he does it because he likes me.”

“So... So what you’re saying, Frank, is that you like to be intimate with him, but you feel…maybe _ashamed_ of what you’ve done after? Is that right?”

Frank nodded. “I don’t like to be sinful.”

“Why do you feel that it’s sinful?”

“Because it’s… Because Gerard’s a guy.”

“You feel it’s sinful because you’re both men?” His therapist asked.

Frank hesitated and then nodded. It was sinful because it was sex—and then it was worse because they were both men. 

His therapist talked to him for a while about the different types of relationships people could have and how, in modern days, homosexuality wasn’t seen as being as taboo as it had been before. If he was happy and feeling safe in the relationship, then that was all that mattered. She did, however, insist that his relationship didn’t need to be physical if he wasn’t ready or interested in it. He didn’t need to feel pressured—and if he was so upset about committing sin, then maybe he wasn’t mature enough or ready for a sexual relationship.

“But it’s not the sex stuff that bothers me,” Frank mumbled.

“Then what bothers you?”

Frank mumbled that he had scars that made him ugly—and she knew exactly where he meant—and told her about how insistent Gerard was about making him look at them.

“If he says it doesn’t bother him, why is it still a source of anxiety for you?” His therapist asked.

“Because I know he’d rather be with someone who looks normal,” Frank said. 

“If Gerard had scars, too, would you wish you were with someone else?”

“No…”

“Then why would he want to be with someone else because of yours?”

“Because I love him more than he loves me,” Frank muttered. 

“What makes you feel that way?”

“’Cause I’m the one who…who comes to him. He doesn’t come to me like…like he did on Thanksgiving.”

“Do you think that he might not make advances because he’s older than you? Perhaps he’s afraid you’ll feel pressured?”

“Maybe… I don’t know. He keeps saying we’re going to go out on a date, but he doesn’t take me.”

“Oh?”

“The first time it’s because I got grounded… Then this time he had to work.”

“It doesn’t sound like he’s putting it off on purpose.”

“I know. It makes me feel bad, but I don’t want to bother him… I wish I could tell him I don’t want to go out, but…he’d get mad.”

“Why would he get mad that you don’t want to go out on date?”

“Because he’ll think I’m sulking. I really just don’t want to bother him.”

“You think that going on the date would be bothersome to him?”

Frank nodded. “He hates going out. He doesn’t like other people. Crowds give him anxiety.” Especially last-minute Christmas-shopper crowds. 

“So…you’ve been with Gerard a while. Why are you just now mentioning him to me?”

“I don’t know… It’s—It’s the sex stuff. Jamia…doesn’t need the details about that.”

“And what about the sex stuff?”

“Well…We haven’t—We… We don’t go all the way, you know? Like…he hasn’t tried or anything. He says I’m not ready.”

“Okay.”

Frank took a deep breath and pulled his knees up to his chest on the couch. “He keeps doing…more stuff though. Like…when we mess around. Sometimes I don’t like it, but I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t like it?”

“Like… Sometimes it hurts and…and he listens when I tell him it hurts, but he keeps going.”

“Have you asked him to stop?”

“No.”

“When you tell him it hurts, do you mean you want him to stop?” 

Frank shrugged and stared down at the carpet.

“What happens after you tell him he’s hurting you?”

“He… He’ll kiss me and apologize. He doesn’t mean to make it hurt.”

“Why don’t you ask him to stop?”

“I don’t know… Because I know he’ll make it better.”

“But you’re still unhappy.”

“Sometimes I’m uncomfortable…”

“Do you tell him that?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to make him mad or…make him not like me. He makes it feel better if I tell him it hurts. It’s…It’s not like he does it on purpose.”

“Frank, I think a lot of what’s upsetting you comes from your lack of experience in relationships. Even at home, you didn’t grow up in a house with two parents to see how relationships are supposed to work. Couples discuss issues. It doesn’t help if one of the pair keeps secrets. You might feel like you’d be hurting Gerard if you told him he made you uncomfortable, but it’s worse if you don’t say anything.”

“If I tell him I’m uncomfortable, he’ll stop altogether and he won’t like me anymore,” Frank said.

“What has he done to make you feel that way?”

“Well… When he wanted me to show him my…my scars, h-he made me keep the light on and when I told him I didn’t want him to see, he just…quit touching me. It made me feel really bad.”

“Did you tell him?”

“No, but…he figured it out. I just rolled over and…he turned the light off.”

“Well, Frank, it sounds to me like the way he treated you still hurts you.”

“Yeah…”

“If you talk to him about it, he might understand and then he won’t do it to you anymore.” 

“But what if he doesn’t? What if…if he gets mad or ignores me?”

“There’s only one way to know for sure, Frank. But doing nothing is counterproductive. The more you hide it, the worse it’s going to feel. Those feelings have tendency to…to sneak up on you and come out when you don’t expect it when you feel stressed or anxious.”

“I just want it to go away…”

“It can’t go away if you don’t talk to him. You need to get closure when you have disagreements. It’s important to reach a conclusion, even if you just agree to disagree.”

“But what do I even…even say?”

“I know it’s an uncomfortable conversation to have, and I know a lot of men get self-conscious and maybe even a bit defensive when they’re questioned about what they do in the bedroom, but you can mention the last time you two were together that something happened you didn’t like. You don’t want to sound accusing, but it’s important that he understands what he did made you uncomfortable.”

Frank kept his head bowed as he fed him tip after tip after tip about how to have the conversation without blaming Gerard for anything.

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard smirked wickedly as he watched the officers push the resisting man into the backseat of their cruiser. He’d been trying to sneak out with several DVDs and even had the nerve to attempt to hide a boxed stereo under his coat. He tried to run, but Gerard chased him and tackled him to the ground—smashing the stereo unfortunately—while Ray called the police. 

“Feeling proud of yourself?” Ray asked, clapping Gerard on the shoulder and breaking his concentration as the cruiser pulled away. 

“Yeah. Yeah I am, actually,” Gerard said, shrugging Ray’s hand away and going back into the store. The cashier on duty, a new-hire named Steven who was brought on to replace Chantal. 

“So, I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while, how’s Frank doing?” Ray asked.

“How is _Frank_ doing, or how is his _arm_ doing?” Gerard snapped. 

“Both, I guess,” Ray said, looking at Gerard meekly. It was obvious the other man felt bad about what had happened. If he weren’t so genuinely distressed about Frank being injured that day, Gerard would’ve had the man out of a job. Gerard had told Frank to take those heavy boxes off the top and then Ray told him not to bother with it. It was _Ray’s_ fault that Frank’s arm had gotten broken. Gerard would never forgive him for that, but he didn’t feel the need to crush the man’s livelihood by stripping him of his job for it. 

Frank wouldn’t have wanted it… And, from what Gerard had seen—apart from letting Frank get away with stealing so much product from the store in the past—Ray was a good manager. He was kind to his employees and stern when he had to be despite his friendly nature. He was the sort of employee Spend N Save needed. Maybe he could even be promoted to a district manager someday. 

“His arm is healing. It doesn’t hurt him so much anymore—doesn’t need the pain pills anymore.”

“That’s good. No, uh—no complications or anything?”

“I don’t think so. He goes back a couple weeks after Christmas to get the cast off.”

“I’m really… I really am sorry about what happened. I didn’t think it would break—”

“I know,” Gerard said, not wanting to discuss it. Thinking about it—remembering the scream Frank let out when his arm had been crushed—made him anxious. He wanted to text Frank again, but the boy was currently at a therapy session and there was no telling what seeing a shit ton of texts from his boyfriend would do to the kid. “Don’t worry about it. Frank’s used to getting hurt. Having a broken arm doesn’t even phase him.”

“Didn’t his mother go to court again recently?”

“Yeah. It’s kind of weird. She got sentenced to two years in the psych-ward and if she doesn’t make any progress then she goes to prison to finish a six-year sentence.”

“Do they really think they can make progress with her? The woman is…god-awful.”

“She’s a fuckin’ bitch. She’s been trying to kill Frank since he was a baby—she _admitted_ it. I think she should be locked up for life.”

“Did she ever say _why?_ I don’t get it. Frank is a _good_ kid…”

“She hates men. She hated his father, she hated him—she hates fuckin’ everybody and she took it out on him.”

“Well, hopefully with her getting treatment, Frank can relax a little bit.”

“Yeah, he’s got enough on his mind,” Gerard muttered.

“Is the dog still helping with his anxiety?”

“Oh, yeah—he loves Zoe. He’s upset that my mom won’t let him walk her though.”

“Well it’s so cold out—”

“And icy and some people don’t shovel the snow. The last thing we need is Frank slipping and falling into a snowdrift never to be seen again,” Gerard said, rolling his eyes at how irrational his mother’s fears were. Lots of people walked their dogs in the snow. _Lots._ And Gerard was sick of hearing Zoe whimper from boredom and Frank whimpering because she was unhappy. 

“At least she didn’t make him get rid of her.”

“I wouldn’t let her take Zoe away. He loves that dog more than anything. It’s good for him to have something dependent on him, you know? He could kick that dog in the face and it would still love him. He doesn’t have to worry about making her mad.”

“Yeah, I remember he was always scared I was going to be mad at him for something when we were working truck. He made _me_ anxious with all of his worrying,” Ray said, chuckling a little to himself. 

“I wish he would stop worrying so much, but I can’t just tell him that. It doesn’t help.”

“Give him some time and he’ll come around. He’s seventeen, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I bet after a few more months he’ll show his colors.”

Show his colors? Gerard thought. Show his colors… Frank had nothing to rebel against or become angry with. He was a quiet kid—happy to stay below the radar. He hardly asked for anything at all, and when he was told no, it seemed to scare him so much he ran and hid instead of fighting back. 

Frank was a sweet kid. A nice boy. A quiet, gentle boyfriend. Not cocky. Not an asshole. Not some punk with a chip on his shoulder with something to prove. He didn’t want Frank to change.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank was lying in bed with Zoe at his feet when Gerard got home, working on homework until he saw Gerard on the stairs.

“Hey,” Frank said.

“Hey. How was school?”

“Okay,” Frank mumbled.

“How was therapy?” Gerard asked. That was the more relevant question. Some days Frank hardly said anything to his therapist at all. Then, on others, he would come home a wreck and need cuddled for hours before he could finally sleep. 

“Okay,” Frank said, immediately looking away.

“Uh oh. What happened?” Gerard asked, coming over to Frank’s bed and sitting down beside him. Zoe immediately hopped off the bed and hurried upstairs. Frank closed his text book and rolled over onto his side. 

“I need to talk to you,” Frank mumbled. The words immediately sent a bolt of pain through Gerard’s chest, anxiety eating away at him. 

“Okay,” Gerard said, trying not to show how nervous he was. Frank had obviously been talking to his therapist about him and that wasn’t good. There was no way that woman was going to encourage him having a sexual relationship with someone five years his senior. “What…what do we need to talk about?”

Frank just kept staring at him, holding his bottom lip between his teeth. Gerard wanted to reach out and pet his hair, but now he wasn’t sure Frank wanted it. 

Shit. He was about to get dumped, wasn’t he? He couldn’t even keep a relationship with a messed up teenager going for more than a couple months. How sad was that?

“I don’t want to make you mad at me,” Frank mumbled.

“Shit, Frankie—I’m not going to get mad at you. You’re scaring me. Can you just tell me what’s going on?”

“It’s… It’s about…about the sex stuff.”

“Okay,” Gerard said, feeling worse and worse by the second. He stood up from the bed, not sure if he was making Frank uncomfortable by getting too close, and started pacing between their beds. 

“Are you okay?” Frank asked.

“I’ll be better when you tell me what’s goin’ on. Did… Shit, did I do something that scared you? We haven’t messed around in a while—did I do something the last time?”

“I—I… No, it’s…it’s not like that,” Frank stammered. The fear on his face told Gerard it was, in fact, _like that._

“Frank, just tell me. If I did something, let me know.”

“Well…” Frank looked away and then started picking at his cast. “It’s…It’s about the scars and things.”

“Okay…”

“When you made me keep the light on…”

“I made you uncomfortable. I know. And I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I just wanted you to see that it didn’t bother me.”

“You make me do things I don’t like…”

The words felt like a knife in Gerard’s chest. He felt terrible—just downright gross and awful. The last thing he wanted was to have his partner—his traumatized, underage partner—feeling that their times together weren’t pleasant. He didn’t want to go back to feeling like a rapist, but how else was he supposed to feel when Frank said something like _that?_

“M-more…more than keeping the light on?” Gerard asked, sitting down on his own bed when his hands and legs started shaking. 

If Frank had been so uncomfortable, why hadn’t he just told Gerard to stop? He would’ve stopped right away if Frank asked him. But then again, Frank had repeatedly told him that he didn’t want to do the things Gerard coaxed him into doing. Saying he didn’t want to was the same as saying no, but Gerard pressured him anyway…

“Shit,” Gerard muttered when Frank didn’t answer. 

“It’s…It’s not bad, Gerard,” Frank whispered.

“Not bad? I raped you—that’s what you’re telling me!”

“No! That’s—that’s not what I meant! Please don’t think that—No. I didn’t mean it like that,” Frank whimpered, clambering off his bed and going quickly over to Gerard’s. The boy started clinging to him, sending so many mixed signals Gerard couldn’t even respond. He didn’t know whether to hold onto him for dear life or push him away. Did Frank want to be held? Did he want to break up? What the hell had his therapist told him? “I-I just wanted to tell you so we can—can get better.”

“I don’t even know what you’re trying to say to me,” Gerard said, getting up and moving away from Frank who looked devastated by the action. 

“I-I don’t know,” Frank whimpered, shutting down now that he thought Gerard was angry with him. 

“Frank—what did you want to say? You’re saying I hurt you. You’re saying I made you do things you didn’t want. Now what? You want to break up with me?”

“No!” Frank cried. “No—That’s not why I said anything. I’m sorry! I won’t say it anymore. You can…you can do whatever you want. Don’t…please don’t leave, Gerard. I’m sorry. I won’t complain about it. Just don’t leave.”

Now Frank was panicking too, his voice getting louder and louder as his anxiety mounted. 

“You need to be quiet,” Gerard said, knowing his mother would hear and come downstairs. And how would he explain Frank sitting in his bed crying and begging him not to leave? There was no way for his mother—who was already suspicious enough—not to understand exactly what was happening? 

“I’m sorry—I’ll shut up about it. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to make you mad at me.” Frank was starting to cry, his voice already cracking.

“I’m not _mad_ at you. I _want_ you to tell me if I cross a line. I don’t want to hurt you, Frank. I love you. Do you believe that?”

“Yes,” Frank whimpered, shifting around on Gerard’s bed as if fighting to keep himself seated. 

“So…so then what did I do—besides the light—that hurt you? I need to know so I don’t…don’t hurt you again. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Frank wouldn’t say. He just squirmed in his seat until Gerard gave up and sat down beside him again. Frank opened his arms for a hug and Gerard slowly reciprocated, squeezing him tight and rubbing his back. The boy nuzzled him and kissed his neck, refusing to let go even when Gerard tried to push him back. 

“You know if I try to get you to do something you don’t like, you can say no. Right, Frankie?” Gerard asked, pulling Frank closer until the boy was in his lap, straddling his hips. 

“I don’t want to—”

“To make me mad. I know. But I love you—so telling me you don’t like something or don’t want to do it isn’t going to make me mad. I want you to feel safe with me.”

“But I don’t—”

“You’re _not_ going to make me mad. I swear. Just tell me what you don’t like to do and I won’t do it to you anymore. It’s not…it’s not fun if you don’t like it too.”

Frank shifted to nuzzle Gerard’s neck, letting his hug become a little less tight. 

“What don’t you like?” Gerard asked, petting Frank’s hair and kissing the top of his head. “You can tell me.”

“It’s fine,” Frank mumbled. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter. Come on. If you don’t want to say it out loud, do you want to write it down? I know you don’t like talking about…that stuff,” Gerard said, holding Frank tight and then letting go. Frank started hugging him tighter again. At least Gerard knew now that Frank wasn’t trying to be rid of him…

“I don’t want the lights on,” Frank mumbled.

“Yeah, I know that part,” Gerard said, kissing Frank’s head again.

“…don’t want to…touch myself in front of you.”

“Okay. Can I ask why? It’s okay that you don’t like it. I won’t make you. I just want to know.”

“Because it’s sinful,” Frank mumbled.

Gerard should’ve expected as much. Then he realized, for Frank, touching himself had to stir up bad memories. 

“Anything else you don’t like?” Gerard asked.

“You won’t let me do the thing for you,” Frank mumbled.

“You really wanna blow me that bad?” Gerard asked, huffing out a little laugh.

“It’s the only thing I know how to do…”

“And I bet you’re really good at it too,” Gerard purred, kissing Frank’s cheek before pushing the boy back, making him end their long embrace. 

“I…I hope so,” Frank mumbled, lying himself back on the bed and staring up at Gerard. Not knowing what else to do, Gerard laid down beside him and draped an arm over Frank’s chest. “Are you mad?”

“No, I’m not mad. You scared the hell out of me, though. Thought you were gonna dump me.”

“I wouldn’t dump you,” Frank said, turning his head to look Gerard in the eye. 

“You sure? I’m pretty perverted—keep offending you.”

“You don’t offend me. I’m just… I-I… I overreact too much. I’m sorry.”

“Ugh—stop being sorry,” Gerard said, grabbing Frank’s chin and pulling him into a kiss. “You’re so sensitive. You’re allowed to disagree with people, you know?”

“I’m not allowed to disagree with Momma,” Frank mumbled.

“You’re not with your mom. You’re with me. And I want you to tell me if you want me to stop something. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“You love me?” Frank asked. Gerard kissed him again, letting his tongue trace Frank’s bottom lip. The boy started smiling and opened his mouth, sliding his tongue alongside Gerard’s and letting out a tiny moan. 

“I love you, Baby,” Gerard whispered, pulling Frank close. 

“Not mad?”

“No. If you ask me one more time, I might be.”

Frank let out a soft moan and curled up into Gerard’s side, closing his eyes as if he actually expected to be allowed to go to sleep.


	46. Chapter 46

_Chapter 46_

Frank stared up at Gerard anxiously from his place on the floor. He was on his knees, a pillow sparing him the pain of the hard, concrete floor. Gerard was going to let him use his mouth like he had with Kyle and though Frank was excited, he was nervous too. He didn’t want to do something wrong and have Gerard feel disappointed or worse—be laughed at for messing up. At the start, Frank had thought he might be able to please him easily since he had a little experience. Then he realized Gerard knew more than he ever would and he would never be able to give Gerard as much pleasure as Gerard gave him. Gerard knew tricks to do with his tongue that Frank was scared he’d ruin if he tried to replicate. 

Gerard unbuckled his belt and started to unzip his fly, not looking at Frank who chewed his lip anxiously.

“Gerard?”

“Hm, Baby?”

“What…what if I suck at it?” Frank asked. 

“Baby, it’s a blowjob. Even lousy blowjobs are great.”

“But I don’t want it to be lousy…” Frank said, his mouth running dry as Gerard’s member sprang out from the confines of his skinny jeans. He could feel his face heating up, shame and humiliation gnawing at him. There was something wrong about being eye-level with another man’s sin… With Kyle, they’d both been sitting. Kyle hadn’t been looming over top of him in an ominous position of power. 

“Don’t be nervous, Frankie,” Gerard said, suddenly sinking down to sit cross legged in front of Frank on the floor. “Do you want some tips?”

“Okay,” Frank mumbled, blushing when Gerard started stroking himself. It still seemed so wrong to him for a person to touch himself in front of anyone else. It was such a private, sinful thing…how Gerard could do it so easily—so shamelessly—left Frank feeling uncomfortable and confused. 

“Don’t bite me, don’t scrape me with your teeth, and don’t try to take more than you can and puke on me. Avoid those three things and I promise it won’t be lousy.”

“I wouldn’t bite you,” Frank mumbled, trying not to watch Gerard’s hand as it moved up and down his length. 

“Do you want to move to the bed instead? You can’t be comfortable on the floor.”

“My back kind of hurts already,” Frank whispered, embarrassed because it had been his idea to kneel on the floor. He didn’t know anything about what he was doing, but it felt wrong to him to lie on the bed to do it. Really, deep down, he wanted it to be in a position where Gerard could easily kiss him the way Kyle had done. Frank had liked that—it made him feel special instead of filthy—but he was too nervous to ask Gerard to kiss him during the sinful act. What if Gerard would think it was gross? It _was_ gross… Gerard would never kiss him after he put his mouth down there…

“You can sit on the bed,” Frank said.

“Are _you_ going to sit on the bed, too?” Gerard asked.

“No…”

“But your back is hurting,” Gerard said, tilting his head and continuing to stroke himself. It was distracting Frank so much. He felt like he should be the one to touch it, but when he reached out, Gerard pulled away. “We’re not going to sit on the floor. Come on—let’s get on the bed. Come on,” Gerard said, standing up. Frank moved with him, not wanting to make Gerard mad. 

As soon as he was sitting next to him on the bed, Gerard leaned over and kissed him on the mouth, running his tongue along Frank’s bottom lip. Frank opened his mouth eagerly and reached his hand out, bumping it against Gerard’s so the other man would move his hand away, letting Frank stroke him. 

Frank was getting better at kissing—at least, he thought he was. He was able to go longer without breathing than before, and he’d gotten used to the feeling of having Gerard’s tongue wrapped around his own. He moaned a little, his hips squirming as he grew hard despite his anxiety. He really wished Gerard could touch him, too, but that was selfish. For so many nights Gerard had pleasured him and had nothing for himself. Frank could return the favor for just a night—even if the thought felt unbearable. 

When Gerard started moaning, Frank broke away from the kiss and, after looking at Gerard anxiously for permission, lowered his head and parted his lips. He kept his hand around the base of Gerard’s member and gently sucked on the tip. Fluid was already beading at the top and Frank tried to keep from shuddering at the unpleasant taste. He didn’t want Gerard to get offended or laugh at him—even if Gerard just giggled and told him he was cute, Frank would feel terrible. 

He swirled his tongue around the head, letting the fluid coat his tongue. It was bitter and the taste alone was enough to make him gag, but he fought the impulse. He tried to take more of the length into his mouth, rubbing his tongue against the vein on the underside. Gerard rolled his hips and let out a low moan, one of his hands coming to the back of Frank’s head and stroking his hair. 

Frank pulled back and started bobbing his head up and down, sucking hard as more of the bitter pre-cum dibbled onto the back of his tongue. He looked up to see if Gerard was liking it and immediately locked eyes with his boyfriend, making him blush profusely. 

“God, you’re so sexy, Frankie,” Gerard moaned. “Love you, Baby—feels so good.”

Frank couldn’t help but stare at Gerard’s lips as he spoke. They were so pink and so wet. Frank wanted a kiss so badly, but he didn’t want to pull off and ask.

He stared up at Gerard, praying that somehow Gerard could read his mind and pull him up for a kiss, but it didn’t happen. Gerard kept petting his hair, though, and moaning out little praises. So Frank kept sucking on the tip of his length and stroking the base with his hand. He tried to rub at the slit with the tip of his tongue, but the bad taste became worse and Frank gagged. It embarrassed him when he had to pull off, but he was afraid if he didn’t pull back he might scrape Gerard with his teeth or get sick on him—and if he hurt Gerard or grossed him out, there was no way he’d get a kiss even after they were done. 

“Aw, Baby—are you okay?” Gerard asked, stroking Frank’s cheek. 

“Sorry,” Frank whispered. 

“No—don’t say you’re sorry. It’s okay. Come here.” Gerard pulled him and up Frank couldn’t help but gasp in happy surprise when he finally got his kiss on the mouth. He blushed and kissed back passionately, elated when Gerard added tongue—moaning when Gerard reached between his legs and started stroking him through his jeans. 

When Frank started gyrating his hip, Gerard’s hand went away and Frank remembered what he was supposed to be doing. Tonight was about Gerard. It was Gerard’s turn. He’d get his chance tomorrow night, maybe. Or, if he was really lucky, maybe in the morning before breakfast. School was out for Christmas break so he could sleep in if he wanted, but he liked to help Donna with breakfast. He would be up…maybe Gerard would be up too.

He leaned back down and licked the tip, making himself adjust to the taste of the fluids coming out. He sucked the head into his mouth and tried taking more than the first time, making himself gag again but refusing to pull off. 

He must’ve done something right because Gerard started moaning again and put his hand in Frank’s hair once more. His fingers started tightening and when he pulled at Frank’s scalp, the boy moaned a little as well and tried to take him deeper into his throat. 

“So good, Frankie—you feel so fucking good.”

Frank felt himself blushing at the sinful words. He wanted to touch himself, but had to resist. It was shameful to do that in front of someone else. It was more sinful than using his mouth this way. But he was so hard it was starting to hurt. He’d been slightly aroused when doing this for Kyle, but not _this_ bad. 

He was starting to whimper as he bobbed his head up and down, taking a little more of his length than before. Gerard rolled his hips again and moaned loudly.

“Keep doing that,” Gerard moaned. “Feels so good—just like that. Oh, God. Fuck. Just keep doing that.”

Frank blushed even harder, looking up at Gerard and moaning when he saw the lidded look on his face. He was responsible for how undone Gerard was becoming. He sucked on the tip harder and then, without warning besides Gerard’s deep moan, more of that bad-tasting fluid shot into his mouth. Afraid to pull back and get it on his clothes, Frank’s first instinct was to swallow to get rid of the taste. 

“Oh, God, you’re so fucking sexy—come here,” Gerard said, grabbing Frank and pulling him forward into a deep kiss. Frank moaned deeply and climbed into Gerard’s lap, he squeaked in surprise when Gerard’s hand began rubbing against the bulge in his jeans. 

“Y-you don’t have to,” Frank gasped. 

“And miss your sexy o-face? I don’t think so,” Gerard said, kissing Frank on the mouth and then moving to suckle on his neck.

“M-my what?” Frank asked, hands starting to shake as Gerard moved down his throat.

“Your o-face—the face you make when you cum,” Gerard said quickly before sinking his teeth into Frank’s neck. 

Frank gasped and pulled away, not exactly put off by the pain, but not expecting it. 

“Do you want me to suck you?” Gerard asked, pulling Frank forward again and kissing him hard on the mouth before he could answer. It was rough and forceful, but Frank found himself moaning and pressing closer. “Or do you want me to play with these?” Gerard’s hand snaked up Frank’s shirt and his fingers sought out one of his nipples, squeezing it hard.

“P-play with th-those,” Frank whimpered, shame setting in his stomach. 

“Mm, you like that a lot, don’t you, Baby?”

“Yes,” Frank moaned, rutting his hips against Gerard’s thigh.

“Take your shirt off for me, Baby, and lay back on the bed, okay?”

“Okay,” Frank whispered, pulling off his shirt. The sleeve got stuck on his cast and he whimpered until Gerard helped pull the fabric away. 

Frank watched as Gerard tucked himself back into his jeans before he started crawling over Frank’s body, kissing him on the mouth while running his hand down Frank’s stomach to his jeans. 

“Is it okay if I take you out? The light’s on,” Gerard whispered, his lips close to Frank’s neck.

“C-Can… Can you turn the light off?” Frank asked. 

Gerard’s eyes acquired a disappointed look and Frank’s stomach tightened as his boyfriend started getting up from his bed. He wanted to see the face Frank made when he finished—a sinful thing—and he couldn’t see it with the light off… For him, the night would be ruined if Frank made him shut the light off. Why would he want to do it again if Frank denied him what he wanted?

“W-wait. You don’t have to—please, don’t go.”

“It’s okay,” Gerard said.

“No—please! I’ll be fine just…just don’t look.”

“Alright,” Gerard said, shrugging and climbing back over top of Frank. He started rubbing him through his jeans again and then lowered his head to swirl his tongue around one of Frank’s nipples.

Frank gasped and his hips bucked upwards, grinding against Gerard’s thigh. 

“I bet you could finish just from this,” Gerard said before blowing a cold stream of air over Frank’s nipple. Frank squirmed and nodded, not sure if he was agreeing or just begging for more affection. “Do you want me to touch you down here?” 

Gerard started rubbing him through his jeans again and Frank moaned. He didn’t want Gerard to have to, but he _needed_ it. He needed it so bad. He was so hard it was hurting and he was desperate to have a gentle touch to relieve him. 

“Yes—please. Please?”

Gerard kissed him on the mouth the whole time he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled down the zipper. He added tongue as he pulled the jeans away and made it even deeper as he freed Frank’s sin from his underwear. 

Almost as soon as he started pumping his hand up and down, Frank’s back arched off the bed. 

“You always cum so fast,” Gerard whispered, chuckling at him and filling Frank with embarrassment. His cheeks burned dark red and he tried to stifle his moan—not wanting to be so vulnerable. He wished he could last longer, but it was so hard to hold off. “Aw, don’t get shy. It’s cute. I like that about you. It just means you like me, right?”

“I love you,” Frank said rapidly, slowly thrusting upwards into Gerard’s hand. 

“I love you, too,” Gerard said, kissing him on the mouth and then duckling back down to lick and suck at his nipples. 

Frank squirmed under him, moaning helplessly. Every now and then, Gerard would clamp his teeth down on one of the sensitive buds. The sharp pain made the warmth pool in his stomach even faster. 

“Do you like that?” Gerard asked.

Frank nodded.

“Do you like it?” Gerard asked again. 

This time Frank moaned and said yes—then begged for more. It was the start of an endless stream of sin which poured from his lips. 

“C-Can you put a finger in? Please?—Please?”

“I can—but I’ll have to stop touching one of these,” Gerard said, stroking him between the legs and then biting his chest. 

Frank wished he could pleasure everywhere at once, not wanting to lose any of the good sensations. 

“Do you want me to?”

“Yeah,” Frank moaned, wanting to feel that pressure inside him—wanting Gerard to touch that place that felt so good. He was desperate to have it—even if he knew one touch would be all it would take for him to finish. 

“Do you still want me to play with these?” Gerard asked, rubbing Frank’s left nipple with his thumb. 

“Y-yeah,” Frank whispered, knowing he was going lose the touch between his legs. 

“Okay,” Gerard said, smiling at him and then bringing one of his own fingers to his mouth. He wetted it with his spit and then lowered it between Frank’s legs. “Lift your hips a little for me, okay?”

“Okay,” Frank said, moving into the position Gerard had taught him. As soon as he felt the pressure at his opening, his eyelids fluttered and he let his head fall back against the pillow. He loved the feeling of Gerard’s finger slipping inside, stroking him and seeking out that spot.

He closed his mouth around Frank’s nipple again, sucking it and teasing it with his tongue as he twisted his finger around. Frank started grinding his hips upwards—almost taunted by his inability to get friction. It made him feel all that more desperate and needy—feelings he didn’t know he wanted to have. Then Gerard’s finger pressed against that spot and Frank cried out, his hips thrusting upwards with no gratification. At the same time, Gerard bit down on his nipple hard—too hard—and Frank whimpered, flinching away from the touch.

“Sorry—Sorry, Baby. Didn’t mean to hurt you,” Gerard whispered, going to the other nipple instead and suckling it until Frank relaxed. He kept dragging the tip of his tongue over Frank’s nipple, rebuilding all of Frank’s tension in a matter of seconds. When his finger pressed against that sensitive place one more time, Frank gasped and came—noticing right away that Gerard was watching him and smiling. 

He took his finger out and started stroking Frank’s sin through his orgasm, keeping his touches gentle until he was spent. 

Gerard laid a blanket over him as soon as he was finished, protecting him form view.

Immediately after, he laid down behind Frank on the bed, draping an arm over him and kissing the back of his neck. Frank pressed back against him, smiling softly—feeling protected and warm. 

“Are you okay, Baby? I didn’t mean to bite that hard.”

“I’m okay,” Frank said, the bite one of the furthest things from his mind at the moment. He was still feeling high and giddy, completely blissed out with no problems on his mind at all. For the moment, nothing else existed. Nothing else mattered except Gerard told him he loved him, kissed him, and then cuddled when everything was over. 

Loved.

Frank was loved. He knew what that felt like now. Love was warmth. Love was safety. Love was…amazing. Gerard was amazing. Never in his life had Frank ever felt as precious and valued as this. 

Gerard was stroking his hair and singing to him softly. 

Frank started smiling and couldn’t stop smiling. He rolled over to face Gerard and kissed him softly on the mouth. Gerard smiled at him, still playing with his hair, until Frank cuddled into his neck and closed his eyes. 

“Gonna take a nap?” Gerard asked.

“Sleep here,” Frank said, squeezing Gerard tightly with his arm. 

“Okay. We’ve gotta change clothes first, Baby. And I want to wash my hands.” 

Frank resisted Gerard’s moves to get up at first, but eventually he caved, even dressing in his nightclothes when Gerard tossed them onto the bed. 

“I’ll be back in a minute, okay, Baby?” Gerard said, leaning down to kiss Frank on the mouth before hurrying upstairs to the kitchen. 

Everyone was in bed, so the light was off. The only way Gerard could even see his way to the sink was due to the orange glow coming in from the streetlamp outside. 

He turned on the faucet and filled his hands with soap, lathering it up longer than he usually would and paying extra attention to the nails of the fingers he’d had inside Frank. There was still a dumb smile plastered on his face as he sleepily scrubbed at his hands. His mind kept replaying the needy sounds Frank had made and how sexy and cute it was that he’d rather have his nipples played with than his cock. Part of him wondered if it was because Frank felt less shame in it, but to be truly honest it was sexy either way. 

“So. He’s your baby, huh?”

Mikey.

Gerard stiffened, the smile vanishing from his face in an instant. Behind him, he heard the refrigerator door open and then slam closed. Then the light clipped on.

“You… What are you talking about?” Gerard asked, turning off the faucet and drying his hands on his pajama pants. When he turned to look at his brother who was eating a cold piece of pizza straight out of the box in the fridge, the teenager raised his brow at him.

“You don’t even wanna _know_ how much I just heard. So don’t even play dumb.”

Gerard wanted to say something snide—something like, ‘bullshit. If you’d heard that you wouldn’t be eating.’ But words just wouldn’t came out. All he could think was _shit._ Mikey knew. Mikey knew, and if he wasn’t happy with it, their mother would know as well.

“You know, if Mom found out she’d beat the shit out of you,” Mikey said, smirking as he chewed on the cold, days old pizza slice. 

“I-It’s not like I’m just fucking around with him,” Gerard snapped, anger coming through in a vain, instinctual attempt to hide his complete and utter terror. 

“I don’t wanna know _what_ you’re doing with him. But when Mom finds out, she’s going to kill you.”

“Well don’t fuckin’ tell her then,” Gerard said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I won’t have to. You know Frank can’t keep a secret from her to save his life.”

“She asked him before and he said _nothing._ So unless you go putting ideas in her head—”

“I won’t have to if you…you know. Pay up.” Mikey smirked at him, knowing he had his older brother cornered. He could ask for anything, literally _anything,_ and Gerard would have to give it to him. “I’m just fucking with you,” Mikey said through a wide, toothy grin, cracking up at his own sick joke.

“Mikey!”

“Keep yelling. You’ll just wake Mom up.”

“Goddamnit.”

“Gerard?” And there was Frank, hurrying up the basement stairwell because Gerard hadn’t come back to him. 

Mikey grinned at him, too, only becoming more and more humored as Frank stared at him confused. 

“What’s going on?”

“He—He’s eating my fuckin’ pizza is what’s happening,” Gerard stammered. Frank looked from him to Mikey, suddenly looking distressed. He was naïve about a lot of things, but he was far from stupid. 

“Are…are you going to tell Mom?” He asked Mikey, chewing his lip anxiously. 

“Yeah… I’m gonna go knock on my mom’s door and tell her ‘hey, guess what? I just heard Gerard and Frank fucking.’ No thanks.”

“H-Heard?” Frank asked, starting to look sick. 

Mikey, much better at lying than Frank could ever even hope to be, fixed Frank with a disappointed stare.

“If I actually heard you two going at it, do you _really_ think I’d be eating right now? I heard him calling you Baby. It doesn’t take much to put two and two together, you know?”

“I-I… Y-You’re not going to tell Donna, right? Sh-she’ll—She…”

“Frank, _relax!_ ” Mikey said, more annoyed than angry. “I’m not talking to Mom about you two doing…whatever the Hell you two do down there at night.”

Frank still looked on the verge of a panic attack.

“Frank, it’s fine. He doesn’t care. He’s not telling Mom.”

“Actually, I _do_ care. You know he’s my best friend,” Mikey said, chewing on the stale crust of the pizza. 

“Mikey, I—I’m sorry,” Frank stammered, on the verge of tears now which set Gerard’s anger off again. Frank had been so happy—all blissed out and cozy—now he was about to start crying and once he cried, it was hard to get him to stop. 

“Dude—stop. I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at _him._ He finds out I have a gay friend and he has to climb on top of that.”

“Oh,” Frank said, looking hurt now for a different reason. The look he gave Gerard was one of betrayal. 

“Mikey,” Gerard hissed. 

“I’m going to go back to bed,” Frank whispered, hurrying back down the steps.

“What did you have to say that?” Gerard snapped. “I haven’t dated anyone in over a year now you’ve got him thinking—”

“Hey, I got him to stop asking about Mom, didn’t I?”

“I’d rather him be scared you’re going to tell Mom thank thinking I’m easy.”

“You _are_ easy.”

“Whatever,” Gerard muttered, going back toward the stairs. “Just… From now on, Mikey, leave my exes out of it. He doesn’t need to know that shit.”

“He doesn’t?” Mikey asked, huffing out a laugh as he opened the fridge again and stole another slice of pizza. 

“No. He doesn’t.”

When Gerard got back down to his and Frank’s room, he was surprised to see Frank sitting in his bed instead of his own. He thought for sure the boy would be upset and try to shut him out, but when he reached the bottom step, Frank looked up at him sadly and wouldn’t break eye contact until Gerard sat down beside him. 

“You okay?” Gerard asked, putting an arm around him and squeezing gently. 

“I-I… I’m embarrassed,” Frank whispered.

“Yeah, me too,” Gerard said, not sure what else to say to him. 

“Do you not…want me to sleep here tonight?” Frank asked, looking up at him and pleading with his eyes for Gerard to say he still wanted him.

“Of course,” Gerard said, leaning over and kissing him. Frank pulled away before it could become too deep. “Why wouldn’t I?” 

“I don’t know,” Frank whispered. 

“I’ll set an alarm so I can get you back in your bed when it’s time so Mom doesn’t come down and see, but I like sleeping next to you. You’re warm.”

Frank didn’t say anything back.

“I love you.”

“Love you…” 

“What’s the matter? What did he say that’s got you worried?”

“I don’t know,” Frank mumbled.

“Yes you do,” Gerard said. “What is it?”

“Nothing… I’m just… I’m stupid. It’s nothing. I’m sorry.”

“Baby—you’re not stupid, it’s obviously not nothing, and you don’t need to be sorry. Just tell me. We can talk about it and then we can go to sleep.”

“You’ll get mad and make me sleep somewhere else,” Frank mumbled.

“Is this about the boyfriend thing?”

“Boyfriend thing?” Frank asked, looking down at the bed.

“Mikey saying…that I’d get with any gay friend he had—or whatever the hell he said. Is that what this is about?”

Frank didn’t answer.

“I’m not just dating you because you’re here and you’re interested in me. I really do love you Frank.”

“How many…exes do you have?” Frank asked, looking up nervously.

“Four or five maybe? I don’t know. Depends on what you consider an ex.”

“Boyfriends like me,” Frank said.

“Serious boyfriends…maybe three. Guys I saw for a few months here and there, mostly physical—maybe, like…five or six.”

“Then why would Mikey say that?”

“Because he’s an ass,” Gerard grumbled. “Because I got a little too excited my freshman year of college and slept with about seven guys in one semester. Obviously I wasn’t doing any studying and I dropped out. So… Believe me when I say _all_ the gays kids come out in college.”

“You’re really popular,” Frank said, looking up at him again.

“I was really easy and I spent a lot of time getting drunk. Trust me. It didn’t make up for how shitty high school was.”

“I’m sorry,” Frank whispered.

“Don’t be sorry, Baby. Do you want to go to sleep?”

“Okay,” Frank said, staring at Gerard until he leaned over and kissed him on the mouth. 

Gerard got up to switch off the light and hurried to lie back down, almost afraid Frank would try to disappear in the dark. As soon as he laid back down, he put his arm around Frank and made sure to keep Frank pinned between him and the wall so he couldn’t escape in the night without Gerard noticing. 

“I’m not very good at sex stuff,” Frank muttered, his head pressed tight to Gerard’s chest.

“Yeah you are.”

“No, I’m not…”

“Well, I’m still teaching you things,” Gerard said, hugging Frank tightly.

“But I’m not good like the others… They already knew how to…do things.”

“Frank, I like teaching you. It’s… It’s _different_ for me. I like it. I _really_ like it.”

“But I suck…”

“You don’t suck. Except, you know, a little bit ago when you gave me a little _extra_ attention.” He shook Frank by the shoulder and chuckled softly, showing him he was pleased with what happened—not disappointed in him.

“I just… I don’t feel I’m good enough,” Frank whispered, his voice shaking. 

Gerard sighed and kissed the top his head. He didn’t want Frank to cry. If he cried, there was no getting him to stop. 

“Frank, you’re better than those guys. It’s hypocritical—it’s _really_ hypocritical, but I get off knowing you’re a virgin. I do. It turns me on so fucking much you have no idea. Because I know that I’m the first one to make you feel good and teach you about your body—your fuckin’ sexy, perfect little body.”

It was smutty to say and probably insensitive, too. He was probably meant to say something along the lines of ‘I love you. I don’t care if you’ve been with one person or one hundred.’ But how he actually felt was privileged and a tad bit smug. He’d never been with a virgin before. He thought that was a luxury he’d missed out on since he was unpopular in high school and his college years were full of easy one-night-stands.

But now he had Frank. And yes Frank came with a lot of extra baggage, but that was a price Gerard was more than willing to pay. 

“But I’m ugly…”

“No you’re fuckin’ not. Yes, you have scars down there, but I don’t _care._ I love you.”

“I love you too,” Frank whimpered, cuddling closer and clutching onto the front of Gerard’s pajama shirt. 

“You’re so sensitive, Baby.” Gerard kissed Frank’s head a few times and started rubbing his shoulder as they lie side by side. “What do I have to do to prove I love you?”

Frank was quiet for a long time, and completely still—hardly even breathing. 

“Will you tell me about that scar on your leg?” Frank whispered.

Gerard groaned. He’d been hoping Frank had forgotten about that.

“What can I say, Frank? High school fucking sucked,” he muttered. 

“Was it a bully?”

“In a way,” Gerard said, forcing himself to laugh and dodging the question even though he knew it wasn’t what Frank deserved. Gerard knew all of Frank’s secrets. It was only fair that Frank should know some of his. “I don’t know, Frankie. You try to drink bleach, I used to cut.” 

Frank said nothing, but started cuddling against him a bit more forcefully. Gerard smiled at him and kissed the top of his head before nuzzling it. Frank was trying so hard to offer comfort when words escaped him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas in fic-verse in the next update!


	47. Chapter 47

_Chapter 47_

Frank wanted something. Donna could tell he wanted something because he would come to whatever room she was in and then stand there in silence—not at all close to her either as if expecting her to attack him. 

She asked him again and again if there was something he needed, but he would either continued to stare or start looking self-conscious, apologize, and then slip away back to his room or Mikey’s room.

Gerard had been working overtime at the Spend N Save keeping up with all the last minute shoppers and thieves—and making sure the employees didn’t cut any extra deals just because a person seemed stressed or charitable. She’d asked Gerard again and again if he could see what it was Frank wanted from her—because if it was a last minute gift she needed to know before it was too late to buy it for the holiday—but he always came home exhausted and forgot. 

“Frankie?” Donna asked, going down into Frank’s basement bedroom to do a load of laundry. He was lying in bed with Zoe, playing a video game. He paused the game immediately when she spoke and looked up at her. 

“Hm?”

“Is there something you wanted to ask me? You’ve been acting kind of strange lately.”

She had him cornered and she knew it. He couldn’t run away and avoid her, and she wasn’t going anywhere until the laundry was sorted and put into the washing machine.

“No…”

“Frank, you’ve been acting strange for days. What’s going on?”

“It’s… It’s nothing.”

“Come on. If you want something, you can ask me.”

“I just don’t want to make anyone mad,” Frank mumbled.

“I know your mom was hard on you, but you’re with us now. If you want something, asking for it isn’t going to make anyone mad.”

“It’s…about Christmas.”

“Is there something you wanted me to get you?” He’d refused to make a list for her or tell her anything he wanted in particular. All of his suggestions for gifts included treats and accessories for his dog, nothing for himself.

“No…”

“Then what is it?”

“With… With Momma… With Momma, on Christmas we—we’d go to mass…” Frank stammered, chewing his lip between words as he forced himself to spit it out. 

“You want to go to mass?” Donna asked, making sure her voice was as polite and sweet as she could make it. 

“It’s… I don’t know. I go every year, but…”

“Then I’ll take you. Just tell me which church you want to go to.” 

“I don’t know,” Frank mumbled. “I don’t want to go where Momma went. They know what I did…”

“You didn’t _do_ anything,” Donna said, wishing there was a button or switch she could flip to end Frank’s constant feelings of guilt. “And that’s fine. I can take you to my old church. They have midnight mass on Christmas. My sister might even like to go with us.” 

Frank didn’t seem to like the idea of more people joining him, but he tried to hide his look of displeasure. If she weren’t afraid he would run away or get kidnapped, she would drop him off at mass and leave him there on his own—it was probably what he would prefer. That way he couldn’t feel that he was inconveniencing anyone. 

“If my sister doesn’t want to come, maybe Gerard will take you.” She couldn’t deny the way the idea made Frank’s eyes light up. One day the boy was going to admit to her that he had a crush on her oldest son… One day.

As to whether or not Gerard felt the same or just felt guilt-tripped into acting like it, Donna still wasn’t sure.

Though there’d been enough sperm stains in Frank’s bed sheet the last time she’d changed them out for her to believe there was more than a one-sided crush going on—not that she cared to dwell on the subject… It was better for everyone if she just pretended the crusty patches in the sheets didn’t exist. Frank would probably end up trying to hang himself with said bedsheets if he ever learned she noticed the stains. 

“If…If it’s a problem, I don’t have to go. I just—”

Frank’s words were cut off by a loud slam upstairs, followed by the stomping of boots to rid them of snow. Both Frank and Donna looked over at the clock on Gerard’s desk. It was only three-thirty—too early for either Don or Gerard to be home. 

“Don?” Donna called, listening to the sounds from upstairs.

“It’s me, Ma.” Gerard’s voice.

“What are you doing home so early?” She called as she heard Gerard’s footsteps on the basement stairs.

“Got my face fuckin’ punched in,” Gerard mumbled.

Frank immediately sat up and Donna watched him instead of Gerard when he stepped down into the room. She watched how Frank’s eyes searched Gerard, and widened when he saw the bruises. Donna passed Gerard what was meant to be a quick glance—used to seeing him bruised and bloodied—but her eyes went wide as well at the sight of the dark bruise around Gerard’s left eye. 

“Oh—what happened?” She asked, setting down her laundry and going over to him.

Frank moved to the end of his bed, but didn’t stand up. He acted as though some invisible force were holding him down, keeping him from rushing up to Gerard and trying to comfort him. 

“Some asshole tried to smuggle out a bunch of phone chargers,” Gerard muttered, flinching away when Donna tried to touch his bruises going over to his bed and sitting down. 

“I really wish you’d get a safer job. Jersey’s dangerous enough as it is. You don’t need to go picking fights with criminals,” Donna said, returning to her laundry. She’d argued with him for months when he’d first accepted the awful job of Asset Protection for the Spend N Save. She begged him to get a normal job, but he liked being in charge. He liked following prospective thieves and harassing them. He liked being the bully for once and his job description gave him the right to be an asshole. 

“Me too,” Frank murmured. “That looks really bad.”

Gerard looked to him and shrugged. Donna tried to analyze the gesture, but there was nothing more to it. No lingering glance, no blowing of a kiss. 

“I’m fine. I’ve gotten worse,” Gerard said, hanging his coat on the back of his chair but keeping his scarf wound around his neck as he laid down across is bed. “Do you remember the time that guy tried to run me down with his car?” Gerard asked, looking at Donna.

“Yes,” she said curtly, not wanting reminded. “It was your second week on the job.”

“Gerard!” Frank whimpered, still squirming around as if an unseen person was holding him hostage on his bed. 

“That was in New York—the bad section of New York.”

“That could happen anywhere, though,” Frank protested. 

Donna wondered if she could use Frank to get Gerard to pick a different job. Surely he’d gotten over his teenage angst by now and had finished bullying the world for bullying him… Now he could get a desk job or maybe a district manager instead of Asset Protection or Loss Prevention. 

“Don’t worry, Frankie. I don’t chase cars anymore after that and if they look like they’re about to run me over anyway, I get my ass back in the store,” Gerard grumbled. 

“What if they crash through the store?” Frank mumbled.

“No one’s going to crash through the store to get me, Frankie. They’re not that crazy around here.”

“But they’ll punch you in the face?” Frank whimpered. He was visibly distraught over what had happened even though Gerard appeared unfazed. More likely than not, he’d opted to come home because he was tired, not because of the pain. 

“It happens. Just part of the job.”

“But I—I don’t…. It’s not safe,” Frank stammered, squirming even more—telling Donna that if she weren’t in the room, Frank would be in Gerard’s bed with him trying to comfort him. 

“Calm down. I’m fine,” Gerard said. “You’ll get used to it. Mom’s not even worried.”

“Oh, I’m worried,” Donna said. “I just know it’s a waste of breath to argue with you.”

“I like my job.”

“But you get hurt,” Frank protested. Donna could barely stand to see how much the boy was squirming in his seat, wanting so badly to go to Gerard.

“Yeah, but I get to see the asshole who hurt me get taken to jail for assault.”

Frank whimpered and laid down on his bed, finally ceasing to squirm around. Donna hurried to finish sorting the laundry and started a load, and as soon as she was at the top of the basement stairs, she heard Frank’s bed creak as the boy finally went to Gerard.

She paused at the top of the stairs and heard exactly what she expected—a kiss. It was immediate, and followed by another. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Frank asked, his voice gentle and nurturing. 

Donna strained to hear what Gerard said in response, listening specifically to hear him call Frank baby like he had before. She had her suspicions, but she also had her doubts. It was odd for a boy Frank’s age to give kisses platonically—just because he wanted to show he cared. It was completely out of character for Gerard to let someone else as close to him as he let Frank, too. Even Mikey, his own flesh and blood brother, wasn’t able to sit too close to Gerard on the couch without the older man becoming agitated. 

“Frank, I’m fine,” Gerard said. “You need to stop worrying so much.”

“But I love you—I worry about you,” Frank murmured. 

“I know you do, but stop. I’m fine.”

Donna heard the bed creak again—presumably as Frank shifted around to get comfortable sitting, or lying, at Gerard’s side—and then gave up. They started talking about Frank’s day, no pet names or kisses passed between them. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard wanted a drink—just one drink. One little drink. Just one glass of wine or a beer or two—nothing major. But _no._ He couldn’t have a drink because in another four hours he had to take Frank to some strange church in the middle of nowhere for midnight mass. He wasn’t mad at Frank over it—the boy gave him blow jobs every other day. If all he wanted was a trip to midnight mass, Gerard was going to take him to fuckin’ midnight mass—but he just wanted a _drink_ before he had to go. One glass of wine wasn’t going to make him wreck the car, even with all the ice and snow on the roads. 

Having relatives over was stressful and he couldn’t handle it sober. 

Frank didn’t seem to be feeling much better about it. He sat on the floor of the kitchen with Zoe while Gerard’s relatives all crowded around in the living room talking and drinking. They’d brought gifts, but they weren’t giving them out until “after dinner.” Only dinner had ended an hour ago…

Gerard, who sat at the kitchen table by himself, wished they would all just go home. Relatives made him uncomfortable. He wasn’t allowed to just sit in his room because it was “rude,” but it was perfectly acceptable for them to ignore him and cut him out of any and all conversation. Nothing had changed since he was in high school and it fucking sucked. Sure, now he got five minutes of “oh, so how’s work? I see you got punched in the face again. Why did you pick such a dumb career?” but that was it. Everything else was his parents’ gossip and his aunts and uncles’ gossip. 

Mikey had done the smart thing and had his laptop with him and sat in the corner of the living room surfing the net, but whenever Gerard tried to go downstairs to get his own computer, his mother scolded him for trying to sneak off.

As for Frank, whose presence seemed to make all of his relatives uncomfortable (his aunt even whispering within earshot of Frank why the boy was still in their house), he just sat on the floor petting his dog listlessly. No one spoke to him except Donna who occasionally asked if he wanted to come sit with them or if he wanted something more to eat. 

Frank, whose feelings had been hurt terribly when one of the relatives asked why he wouldn’t just eat the same food of the rest of them and why he had to have a special plate for himself, would say no without looking up from the floor. 

“Why is he pouting like that?” One of Gerard’s aunts—his father’s sister—whispered. 

Frank looked sadly over his shoulder at Gerard who could do no more than gesture for Frank to join him at the table. Frank looked at Zoe and returned to petting her. Gerard could understand how his relatives could get the wrong idea of Frank. He was quiet—painfully shy but coming off as sullen—and refused to speak unless he was spoken to. And even then he gave more one-word answers than actual responses. 

They were hurting Frank’s feelings—ruining his holiday—and that pissed Gerard off. It was painful to watch and all he wanted was _one drink_ to help numb the pain. 

Groaning, Gerard got up from the table and opened the cupboards. He couldn’t take it anymore. Frank didn’t want to talk to him, the relatives weren’t interested in either of them except to gossip, and there were still four fucking hours before he had to leave for midnight mass. 

“Gerard, what are you doing?” his mother called.

“Making coffee,” Gerard called back, getting the tin of coffee grounds and a fresh filter out of the cupboard. Once he was sure he wasn’t being watched, Gerard also took an old bottle of coffee liquor from the cupboard and poured a fair bit into his mug before starting the pot of coffee. He carefully stowed the bottle away again, pretending he didn’t know it was there behind the boxes of potato flakes and cake mixes. 

Frank was watching him now, though, but Gerard tried not to focus on it. He sat down and waited for his coffee to finish brewing, then poured the hot drink into his mug, swirling it to mix in the liquor. He took a sip and found the drink strong. Exactly what he needed. 

After a while, Frank got up from the floor and came to sit across from Gerard at the table. He didn’t say anything, and he didn’t look up. He just sat there quietly, pretending he wasn’t even in the room. 

“You want some coffee?” Gerard asked.

Frank shrugged and kept staring at the table. 

“Yeah—I’m gonna get you a cup of coffee.”

“I don’t like coffee,” Frank whispered. 

“Well, you’ll like this coffee,” Gerard said, checking again to make sure his parents were watching. He took the bottle of liquor back out of the cupboard and poured a small amount into a mug for Frank and topped it off with coffee. Knowing it would still be too bitter for Frank, Gerard went to the fridge to look for anything he could use that might make it sweeter.

“Gerard, what are you doing?” His mother called again, hearing the fridge door and thinking Gerard was going for a beer.

“Looking for something. Would you leave me alone?” 

“It better not be a beer,” his mother said.

“It’s not,” Gerard growled. 

He found the small carton of vanilla flavored soymilk Frank had with his cereal and took it to the coffee.

“What are you doing?” His mother asked again.

“Making coffee for Frank!” Gerard snapped. “Would you just leave me alone?” He knew that arguing with her would just make Frank uncomfortable, but handling stress had never been his strongest suit. He needed a drink and she needed to get off his back about it.

Gerard brought the fixed up cup of coffee to the table and set it down in front of Frank. 

“I don’t want it,” Frank whispered.

“Try it. You need it,” Gerard said softly. 

“I don’t drink…”

“Just try it. For me?” Gerard asked, sitting down across from Frank again.

The boy sighed heavily and picked up the mug. He blew on it to help it cool and then took a small sip. 

“It tastes funny.”

“I didn’t stir it very well… Swirl it around a bit. If you’re going to be with me, you’re going to have to like coffee.” Gerard said it softly so his mother wouldn’t hear. 

Frank sighed and tried the drink again, taking more into his mouth this time and swallowing hard. 

“It still tastes bad,” Frank murmured. 

“You’re just not used to it yet,” Gerard said, smiling as Frank took another drink. He took a long drink of his own, stronger cocktail and then reached across the table to put his hand over top Frank’s. No one was watching them and Frank was obviously unhappy. It was his first Christmas without his mother and no matter how poorly she’d treated him, he was starting to miss her again. It crushed him, too, when his father made no attempt to get in touch with him for the holidays. His entire family had abandoned him and now he had to feel that Gerard’s family didn’t like him either.

Gerard really wished they could just go downstairs and watch _Nightmare before Christmas_ again and cuddle. Frank looked like he could use a good cuddle. 

Maybe after mass, Gerard would find someplace to park so they could be alone together to talk…or maybe a little more.

_No._

Gerard shook his head vehemently and looked down at his coffee cup. It was empty.

The last thing he needed to do was take his religious, sin-obsessed little boyfriend to midnight mass and then try to make a move on him in the car. 

Frank was still sipping on his first cup of coffee when Gerard prepared his second, adding just as much liquor as the time before but trying to remind himself to watch his pace.

Before long he and Frank were called into the living room to open gifts from their relatives. For the most part the gifts were just greeting cards with gift cards inside—small gift certificates. Their grandparents on Gerard’s father’s side were the only ones to bring actual presents. Mikey got a new winter coat—a really nice one with a high collar. Gerard got a CD and a t-shirt for a band he really didn’t care for (though he made sure to act like it was the best gift ever). For Frank, they bought him a new messenger bag for school and, inside, there were a couple of books and long-sleeved, black and white striped sweater. 

Frank stared at the gifts smiling, unable to really say anything for the longest time before finally giving in and showing his appreciation through a hug. Gerard could tell how much the gifts meant to him—they showed him that even Gerard’s extended family was accepting of him.

( ) ( ) ( )

Nothing about the church or the crowd made Gerard feel comfortable. He didn’t belong here. Even in his nice clothes, he was still the sort of scum all the people in this place scoffed at. He felt like a poser—here he was, a homosexual sinner pedophile with his underage boyfriend in tow, hiding in the back row of pews. Frank didn’t seem happy to be their either, but Gerard knew it was more likely than not his own bad attitude rubbing off on the boy.

The whole thing reminded Gerard of his childhood when his mother had dragged him to church. He’d been bored then and he was still bored now. He couldn’t understand why Frank wanted to come here so badly. A boy his age should be glad to get out of it… 

But Frank looked enthralled. Whenever the priest gave the signal to stand, Frank stood. Whenever they said a chant or a hymn, Frank knew every word without even having to look at the pamphlet—and this wasn’t even his church… 

Frank was happy here, Gerard realized. The service moved him even though Gerard didn’t care about anything that was said—not a single word. He felt alienated here while Frank found some sort of affirmation in the service. 

His eyes even lit up a bit after receiving communion—a thing Gerard managed to avoid by hiding in the church’s bathroom. When Gerard came back to the pew, Frank smiled at him and leaned against his shoulder—like they were on a date at the movies instead of in a crowded church at one-thirty in the morning. One old woman passed them a sideways glance, but when Gerard made eye contact with her, she smiled and nodded her head—probably thinking them brothers. 

When it was over, Frank continued to lean against Gerard’s shoulder as they made their way back to the car—having to brush off the layer of snow that had accumulated while they were at mass. 

“You seem to be feeling better,” Gerard said once he’d gotten back into the car. He tossed his snowbrush into the backseat, but before he could shift the car into reverse and leave the parking lot, Frank grabbed his hand and started squeezing it. “You okay?” It was dark, but the yellow light from the streetlamp lit up the angles of Frank’s face. He had a soft, subtle smile on his lips—similar to the look he had on mornings when Gerard woke up beside him. “You okay?” Gerard asked again when Frank didn’t answer.

“Yeah.”

“You sure? You’re…you’re starin’ at me, Baby.”

“I’m just happy you came with me tonight. I know you didn’t like it, but…it really means a lot to me.” Frank just kept smiling and Gerard couldn’t help it. He reached over with his hand, cursing the puffy glove covering his fingers, and stroked Frank’s cheek before pulling him into a kiss. Frank giggled and kissed back. 

“I love you, Baby,” Gerard said after breaking off the kiss.

“I love you too,” Frank said, giggling and leaning back in his seat. He looked so beautiful it was hard for Gerard to keep his eyes on the road. 

( ) ( ) ( )

By the time they got home, the relatives had left and everyone else was in bed so Frank was able to pick some more food out of the fridge to snack on before bed while Gerard stood behind him, arms wrapped around his waist—holding him close and kissing the back of his neck. Frank wasn’t going to sleep with him tonight—he couldn’t! Not on _Christmas!_ —but he hoped they could still cuddle the whole night. Hopefully Gerard wouldn’t get offended…but he promised that he’d never make Frank feel guilty for turning him down. He really hoped that was true…

“You want me to sleep in your bed tonight, Baby?” Gerard asked, kissing the back of Frank’s neck.

“Yeah,” Frank said, giggling through his mouthful of food. “But can we…can we just cuddle? I really…I really like to cuddle.”

“Oh, I know you do,” Gerard said, kissing Frank on the cheek and hugging him tighter. “I can’t wait to give you your Christmas present. I think you’re going to like it, Baby.”

“A real present?” Frank asked, fearing that Gerard might mean more sex stuff. Christmas wasn’t a time for that… 

“Of course! What are you thinking? Hm?” Gerard purred and pressed his hips up against Frank, making the younger boy blush. 

“N-Not that,” Frank stammered. “I-I really don’t want to. It’s—It’s _Christmas._ I can’t do _that_ on Christmas…”

“Okay, Baby,” Gerard said, immediately pulling his hips back. “We’ll just cuddle tonight. Keep each other warm.”

Frank nodded and turned around to hug Gerard back, done snacking from the fridge and wanting nothing more than to go down to his bed and sleep even though he needed a shower and to brush his teeth.

“Let’s just go to bed, Baby—we don’t need to be anywhere tomorrow and you smell fine,” Gerard murmured, squeezing Frank tight and pulling him toward the basement stars. Frank went willingly, smiling as he was guided down to his bed.

He and Gerard both changed into their pajamas, then Gerard clipped off the light as Frank crawled into his own bed. He nestled down in the blankets and waited, smiling in anticipation as Gerard got onto the bed and moved the blankets around until he got himself situated. 

Frank rolled over so he could snuggle against Gerard’s chest. His boyfriend laughed softly and put an arm around his shoulders to hold him tight. 

“Thank you for taking me to mass,” Frank whispered, nuzzling Gerard’s neck.

“You’re welcome, Baby. I’m just glad you were okay. I was scared you might get upset.”

“Why would I get upset? Mass is…nice. I feel safe at mass. Nothing bad ever happens in the church.”

“Do you…want me to take you more? Like every week or a couple times a month?”

Frank thought about it, but shook his head no. If he went too much, he knew he would hear one of the scriptures that condemned him and his sinful behavior. That would just remind him of Momma and remind him why he didn’t deserve happiness. 

“No. Just…just holidays. I really want to go for Easter, too.”

“M’kay. I’ll take you, Baby.” Gerard started kissing him and Frank smiled, kissing back. It was a chaste kiss—Gerard respecting him by keeping his tongue in his own mouth. Frank started giggling when Gerard broke the kiss and nuzzled his neck instead—his long strands of hair tickling his skin. “Will you get mad at me if I fall asleep at a six o’clock service? I don’t like being up before, you know, five at night.”

Frank laughed a little more, knowing Gerard probably would fall asleep but not caring. It meant enough that Gerard was willing to go with him—he didn’t need to participate if he wasn’t interested in churches. Deep down, Frank hoped Gerard had faith in God, too, but if he didn’t he wouldn’t let that come between them. Just as long as Gerard didn’t try to steal his faith from him. 

Frank titled his head up for another kiss, his entire body prickling with excitement and happiness when Gerard kissed him back. Maybe he was just tired—maybe he was somehow still drunk from the small amount of liquor he’d had in his coffee before mass.

“I really love you,” Frank whispered.

“I love you, too,” Gerard said, kissing Frank again. “Are you excited for tomorrow?”

“A little,” Frank whispered. “Nervous, too.”

“Why?”

“I don’t act right when I get gifts. I don’t want to—”

“You won’t make anybody mad, Baby, I promise. If you don’t know what to say, don’t say anything. Trust me, Frankie, your face says enough on its own. You get all wide-eyed and you blush a lot—you’re so fuckin’ cute when you blush.”

“No I’m not,” Frank murmured sheepishly, wanting to hear Gerard tell him otherwise.

“Yes you are,” Gerard said, pressing his mouth to Frank’s neck and making goosebumps cover all of Frank’s flesh. “Gets me in the mood.”

“No,” Frank protested, giggling and pushing Gerard away playfully. 

“I know, I know. Come back here. Let’s get some sleep. You’re going to need all the energy you can get to cry about your fuckin’ awesome present.” 

“I don’t want to cry,” Frank said, knowing it was probably inevitable. Someone would get him something nice and he’d lose his cool—too happy to say thank you and then so ashamed of looking ungrateful. He was going to cry… 

“If you cry, I can kiss you better,” Gerard said, starting to sound half-asleep. 

Frank decided it was best to let the older man rest and returned to cuddling him, resting his head on Gerard’s chest and closing his eyes. The whole night he focused on the feeling of Gerard’ chest rising and falling—the slow, even breaths.

He didn’t sleep a wink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seems like Frankie is having as much trouble sleeping as...a kid on Christmas Eve ;)


	48. Chapter 48

_Chapter 48_

As soon as Frank heard movement upstairs he sat up in bed. He hadn’t slept all night and he wasn’t even close to being tired. He listened closely to the noises upstairs and recognized it as Donna making a pot of coffee. It was nine a.m. and he’d been waiting _so long_ for someone else to wake up so he wouldn’t have to be alone anymore. 

Quietly, Frank slipped out of bed and hurried upstairs, Zoe—who had slept on the floor next to his bed—followed him with much less discretion. 

“Should’ve known you’d be the first wake up,” Donna said as soon as he stepped into the kitchen. “What do you want for breakfast?”

At the moment, she was making a pot of coffee, so Frank stepped over to her and wrapped his arms around her waist, nuzzling her shoulder happily. He didn’t get to be close to her much anymore—not now that everyone thought it was inappropriate for him to cuddle her. 

She put an arm around him and rubbed his shoulder before kissing his temple, then nudged him away so she could pour herself a cup of coffee.

“Frank?—What do you want for breakfast?”

“I’ll just have cereal,” Frank said, smiling at her as he went to the fridge to get his carton of soymilk. Donna grabbed a bowl for him out of the cupboard and then asked him which cereal he wanted so she could get the box down for him as well.

“You’re up early,” Donna said to him as he prepared his bowl and got a spoon out of the drawer by the sink.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Frank admitted, blushing a little. 

“Ah—Too excited?” Donna asked, smiling at him.

“A little,” Frank said.

“You should be. We got you some pretty nice things.”

“Things for Zoe, too, right?” Frank asked, looking down at his dog who tilted her head and wagged her tail, waiting for him to toss her a piece of cereal. 

“Zoe gets a bone, that’s it. She’s a dog, Frank. A shelter dog, at that. Trust me. She doesn’t need little plaid sweaters to feel welcomed, I’m sorry to say.”

Of the things Frank had bought for Zoe when he’d had his job—before he got injured—sweaters had been one of his favorites. He had one for her that was pink and said Princess on it in big white letters, one that was red plaid, and one that was green and blue striped. He would have to remember to put the red one on her when he went downstairs to change. 

“I got you and Don a present,” Frank said, trying to distract himself from the gifts he was to receive. Thinking of them made him anxious because he knew he wouldn’t act right when he got them.

“I told you _not_ to buy us anything,” Donna said, trying to look stern but smiling a little.

Gerard had taken him out to buy small gifts for Mikey, their parents, and Jamia, too. He’d only managed to find a poster for her, but she claimed to love it and hugged him to express her gratitude. Since neither of them had much money, all she could give him in return was a stuffed pug that he kept on his nightstand. 

Donna had had to take him out to find a gift for Gerard, though he doubted his boyfriend was going to like it… What could you buy for someone who had the ability—and poor enough impulse control—to buy everything he wanted for himself?

“Will I have time to take Zoe on her walk before we open presents?” Frank asked. Gerard had already told him how Christmases in the Way household played out—everyone woke up at their own pace (because sleeping in was the best gift a person could get), then as soon as the whole family was up and had eaten something (or not if they were too excited for food), they would open gifts. 

“It’s icy out,” Donna said, peering out the kitchen window. “I don’t want you to fall.”

“I have boots and Zoe doesn’t pull much on the leash,” Frank said. Zoe loved her walks and hadn’t been able to go on many since it had started snowing. 

“If you want to—but just around the block, Frank. We won’t open anything until you get back.” 

“Thanks,” Frank said, smiling at her as he ate his cereal at the counter, not wanting to go sit down. He liked being near to her and it was rare he got time alone with her unless he got up early to help her make breakfast in the morning. 

“How was mass last night?—Did Gerard fall asleep?”

“No—he hid in the bathroom during communion though… He wouldn’t say why.”

“Well, Frankie, I think it’s time you know—if anything holy touches that boy, he’ll burst into flames.”

“Does he… Does he really not have any faith at all?” Frank asked, a little disappointed.

“I don’t know. He doesn’t seem to care much for churches or…or _organized_ religion, you could say. But if he was willing to take you, then he must not be too opposed. Do you know what I mean?” Donna asked, smiling at him.

“I guess…”

“But, anyway, was it a nice service? Did you like the church?” 

Frank told her he enjoyed it very much and filled her in on the scripture read and the songs they sang. He didn’t forget to mention as many times as he could how happy he was that Gerard had agreed to take him. 

Once he’d finished his cereal, Frank washed his bowl and spoon in the sink, then went downstairs to change clothes—politely asking Donna to keep Zoe upstairs so the dog wouldn’t wake Gerard. Frank knew how much Gerard loved to sleep. As soon as he was dressed, he hurried back upstairs and put on his boots and coat. When he grabbed Zoe’s leash, the dog immediately jumped up and put her paws on his chest, licking his face before jumping back down and wagging her tail excitedly. 

It took Frank a moment to calm her enough for him to clip the leash to her collar, and the whole time Donna watched him with a skeptical gaze as if to say “Really, she doesn’t pull much on walks?”

“Just around the block, Frank.”

“I know,” Frank said, letting Zoe pull him out the door. He was careful on the steps, but slid a few times on the front walkway before finally reaching the sidewalk which was poorly shoveled (Mikey’s reluctant, lazy work). The snow gave Frank more traction and he appreciated it more than the icy concrete. 

Zoe hurried down the sidewalk, jumping from snow pile to snow pile, sniffing and leaving her mark. Frank couldn't bear to just take her around one block, so he took her two. They were walking fast enough that Donna wouldn’t know the difference—even after Frank slipped and fell and had to lay on the ground a moment to compose himself while Zoe sniffed him and licked his face. He’d managed to avoid landing on his bad arm, but his head suffered for it. He didn’t think he was bleeding, but Donna would be sure to notice if he was. 

When he got back home, Donna immediately asked him about the snow on the back of his coat and he just smiled at her instead of giving an actual answer. 

“Fell down, didn’t you? Just like I said you would.”

“No—I…I laid down on purpose…to make snow angels with Zoe.”

“You lie about as well as a three-year-old, Frankie,” Donna said, rolling her eyes at him.

“I’m going to put Zoe’s sweater on her. She’s probably cold after her walk.”

“She’s got fur. She’s probably hot after—”

Frank didn’t stick around to hear the rest. After taking off his boots and coat, Frank hurried downstairs to get Zoe’s sweater. Gerard was still sleeping with his blankets pulled up over his face—dead to the world.

He got the sweater out of his pants drawer in his dresser and crept back upstairs. Zoe was eating from her bowl and he had to wait for her to finish before slipping the sweater on over her head and fitting her legs through the holes. While she was still sitting down, he took a quick picture with his cell phone and sent it to Jamia saying Merry Christmas. 

A little while later, Don and Mikey came downstairs, and despite Frank’s protests, Mikey went down into the basement and started shouting at Gerard to wake up. There was a loud banging and Mikey started laughing before he ran back upstairs.

“He’s gonna kick my ass,” Mikey said to Frank, chuckling before looking down at Zoe. “Why do you keep putting sweaters on your dog?”

“Because they’re cute and she likes them,” Frank said. 

“I don’t think she likes them,” Mikey said, laughing a little before patting Frank on the shoulder to show he wasn’t serious. 

When Gerard came upstairs he looked drained and unhappy. It wasn’t until he got his hands on a cup of coffee that he woke up a little more and was able to pass Frank a smile.

“I see you put Zoe in her sweater,” he said. 

“Yeah,” Frank replied, unable to hold back his smile. He was still thinking about how happy it made him that Gerard took him to mass. Gerard would never realize how much it meant to him, but Frank would spend his whole life making up for it if he could.

“It’s cute.”

“What is it with you two thinking everything is cute?” Mikey asked, making himself a bowl of cereal.

“It’s a dog in a sweater. What’s cuter than that?” Gerard asked.

“A cat in a shark hoodie—when’s dad getting up?”

“Oh, I imagine he’ll be up any minute,” Donna said. “If he’s not up by noon, I’ll get him.”

“Noon? But I want presents now,” Mikey said, putting on the tone of a stubborn toddler only to laugh and shake his head. 

“Noon, Mikey,” Donna said firmly. 

“Fine.”

Gerard made himself a bowl of cereal as well and went to sit at the dining room table. Frank quickly followed him and sat at his side, daring to touch his leg under the table—stroking his thigh.

“Hey,” Gerard said, smiling at him and leaning over to kiss his cheek while no one was looking. 

“Hi,” Frank said, grinning. 

Frank kept rubbing Gerard’s leg until Mikey came to sit with them in the dining room, making a point to sit across from them and grin madly. 

“Sorry. Did I…interrupt something?”

Frank’s smile dissipated and he lowered his face, uncomfortable and ashamed. He really wished Mikey hadn’t ever found out about them. 

“Fuck off,” Gerard muttered, rubbing Frank’s knee under the table to offer comfort. 

“I’m just teasing you guys. Chill out.” Mikey giggled at them and ate his cereal. 

Breakfast was awkward while they waited for Don to wake up. When the man finally came downstairs, Mikey was first to bolt up from his seat and declare that it was finally time for presents. 

They didn’t have a Christmas tree—partially because Donna was afraid Zoe would pee on it and also because of the money—so the family was set to gather in the living room around the coffee table. Frank and Gerard got their wrapped gifts from their room, taking a moment to kiss and wish each other a Merry Christmas before going back upstairs. When they stepped back into the living room, Don was bringing down the last of four large presents from his and Donna’s room. 

Frank’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of the massive packages, knowing at least one of them was for him. A large gift meant money spent on him—wasted on him—and he already didn’t know what to say. 

“Frank, you should open mine first,” Mikey said, tossing a small package up onto Frank’s lap. 

Frank blushed when he noticed all eyes on him, fidgeting as he started unwrapping the packaging—eager to shift the focus to someone else. Mikey had bought him another video game and Frank was quick to thank him for picking it out—knowing Donna had actually bought it for him. 

In exchange, he gave Mikey the gift he’d chosen for him—another video game—and then Donna passed a package to Gerard. It was a new sketchpad and he accepted it graciously. All he’d asked for were new art supplies and a book. 

Frank gave Donna and Don the gifts he’d picked out for them, blushing hard and too nervous to look at them as they opened the packages. He’d gotten Don a DVD collection of Western movies—something he was obsessed with whenever they aired on TV—and for Donna he’d picked out a really nice blouse. 

“Oh, Frank! It’s lovely! Thank you!” She folded the blouse back up and placed it back in its box before standing up and motioning for Frank to come hug her. It was so much better than Christmases at his grandmother’s where the only hugs he ever got followed harsh reprimands—payment for his silence on the subject.

While Donna was praising Frank and thanking him a second time, Gerard passed Mikey the gift he bought him and then gestured for Frank to let go of Donna and rejoin him on the couch. He’d gotten Mikey a set of new comic books, and after he’d opened them, Don and Donna gave Mikey a few more packages. They’d purchased him a tablet with a case as well a remote controlled car—with strict warnings not to use it to bait the dog. 

Gerard handed Frank his gift then—a large box. Frank’s mouth and throat immediately ran dry and he struggled to take a breath. 

“It’s okay—just open it,” Gerard said, rubbing Frank’s back.

Frank felt all of the eyes on him again and started shaking. Large boxes meant a lot of money. Gerard didn’t have that much money. Frank felt so awful…

“Come on. Don’t get freaked out—open it,” Gerard pressed.

“Open it, or I’ll do it for you,” Mikey said. 

Taking a deep breath, Frank started peeling back the paper—his stomach immediately tightening when he recognized the logo on the box. It was a laptop. Gerard had bought him a computer.

“Do you like it?” Gerard asked, smiling at him. 

“Y-Yes,” Frank managed to stammer. He already felt like he was going to cry and his stomach was still tight. 

“Frank? Do you want to give Gerard the present you bought him?” Donna asked. He could tell by her voice that she was smiling at him and that was reassuring. No one here was going to get mad at him for not showing excitement. No one here was mad. 

Still shaking, Frank grabbed his gift to Gerard off the coffee table and handed it to him. It wasn’t nearly enough to make up for what Gerard had gotten him, and the only thing that immediately came to mind that was even slightly comparable was if he broke his vow and committed sin later—giving Gerard everything he wanted for the first time. He didn’t really want to lose his virginity on Christmas, but he owed Gerard something more than fancy markers. 

“Frank, these are great!” Gerard said, looking at the case of markers. For every color it had about three shades and even had a set of metallic colors. It was nice, but it wasn’t enough. Not enough to pay Gerard back for the _laptop._

“You ready for these yet?” Don asked, getting up from his seat and brining over the four large packages one by one. Two were for Mikey, the other two for Frank. They seemed to be identical gifts—one box tall and lean while the other box was a large cube. 

“If you’re gonna throw up, do it in the kitchen, okay?” Gerard said, laughing a little at Frank as he rubbed his shoulders, trying to calm him. 

“I-I won’t throw up,” Frank stammered as Don handed the large, tall box over the coffee table to him. Gerard took the box on Frank’s behalf, because it was heavy and he was afraid Frank would drop it. 

Mikey started unwrapping his own, identical package, and Frank tried just watching him instead of opening his own gift, but Gerard nudged him and made him start peeling off the paper. Inside was a plain brown box and Frank had to lay the package down on the floor to open it. 

Frank shook as he pulled open the box. He only got the lid open half way before he caught a glimpse of what was inside and he immediately dropped the lid and leaned away. His stomach twisted even tighter and he started gagging through his labored breaths. 

It was too much. They’d spent too much on him. It was just _too much._ A laptop from Gerard and now _this?_

“Are you serious!?” Mikey shouted, throwing open his identical box.

“Do you like it?” Donna asked.

“Are you kidding me?—It’s the one I wanted! Oh my God!” Mikey’s voice was cracking, he was so excited.

Frank turned to look at him, hoping to somehow absorb that shameless excitement and emulate it instead of sitting there shaking and trying to suppress the gagging. He kept trying to swallow it down, watching as Mikey pulled the large, red and white guitar out of the box, unwinding the cloths and towels that had been set around it to keep it from sliding around.

Mikey had an acoustic guitar in his room that he played sometimes, but Frank had never really known him to be serious enough about music to want a new one—an electric one. But maybe he must’ve spent too much time with Gerard instead of his best friend because there was no mistaking how happy the gift made Mikey. 

Mikey who actually knew how to play guitar. Mikey who actually knew and liked music…

“Which one did you get?” Mikey asked, carefully setting his guitar back down and turning to look at Frank. “Did you even see?” Mikey started chuckling at him and Frank struggled to take a breath. Gerard started rubbing his shoulder but Frank still couldn’t calm down. “Can I open it for you then?—I want to see.”

Frank nodded and scooted out of the way, daring to press himself into Gerard’s side as he tried to fight the nausea. It was too much. They’d bought both him and Mikey guitars and it was just too fucking much. 

Mikey threw off the lid, almost as excited to open Frank’s gift as he was to open his own, and took out the white guitar inside. 

“Now, Frank, yours is used,” Donna said. “I hope that’s alright.”

Frank couldn’t even look at her when she spoke to him. He stared at the floor, biting back tears. He was making himself look so ungrateful. He couldn’t say _anything_ in response to her. He couldn’t play guitar, he didn’t know how—he doubted he was even smart enough to learn. Why had they spent that much money on him? They’d _hate_ him if they realized he wasn’t smart enough to use their gift. 

He started whimpering, making Gerard wrap protective arms around him. Frank buried his face in Gerard’s chest, wishing he could vanish or just pass out—anything to get the eyes off him. 

“If you’re gonna cry, just do it,” Mikey said, laughing at him. 

Frank pressed into Gerard a little harder, hiding his face as the tears rushed him. He couldn’t fight anymore. 

“It’s okay,” Gerard whispered, kissing the top of his head gently. “Do you like it?”

Frank did the only thing he could and nodded, hugging Gerard back and trying to channel the rest of his energy into making himself stop crying. 

“Frank, it’s alright,” Donna said. “You don’t need to be upset.”

Her words only made him feel worse. He was supposed to be happy with his gift, not sick over it. Why couldn’t he just get excited and cheer about things the way Mikey did? Why couldn’t he be like that?

“I think he just needs a minute,” Gerard said, rubbing Frank’s back and kissing his head again before pressing his mouth close to Frank’s ear and whispering, “Are you okay, Baby?”

Frank sniffed and nodded his head.

“Are you sure?”

Frank tried to nod again, but a sob broke out when Gerard started hugging him harder. He felt like a small child—like a toddler who couldn’t control himself. How hard was it to accept a nice gift with a smile? How hard was it to just say thank you? 

“What’s wrong?” Gerard whispered, rubbing Frank’s back. 

“I don’t know how to play,” Frank stammered, trying to keep his voice as soft as he could.

“We know,” Gerard whispered, keeping his voice low as well so the conversation stayed private, saving Frank from any more humiliation. 

“What am I going to do?” Frank whimpered. 

“Mikey can teach you,” Gerard whispered. “Mom wants you to spend more time with him and less time with me. That’s what it’s about.” 

“I heard my name,” Mikey chimed in. “What are you whispering about me for?” 

“Mind your own business,” Gerard said, rubbing Frank’s back some more. “Open your other gift.”

“I already know what it is,” Mikey said, grinning before turning back to the other, wrapped gift in front of him on the floor. It was an amp, and Don stated that the rest of the equipment was still in his and Donna’s room—that he just didn’t feel up to wrapping it. Mikey ended up unwrapping Frank’s final gift—identical to Mikey’s—for him since Frank refused to let go of Gerard. 

Once the gift-giving was finally over, Donna started making lunch and Frank quickly followed after her—clinging the way he wasn’t supposed to as she prepared the food. 

He was trying to make up for how badly he had acted by hugging her, and every now and then she would kiss his cheek and hug him in return. 

“Do you like your gifts at all?” Donna asked. “If guitar’s not your thing, that’s fine. We can return it and buy you something else.”

“I like it,” Frank whispered, nuzzling Donna’s shoulder. “I just…I don’t know how to play.”

“Mikey can teach you or we can get you some lessons. I think there are even some tutorials online you could follow…on your new laptop, hm?” 

Frank could think of nothing to say to her and settled for snuggling against her side as she put together sandwiches. Every now and then he would pull away from her in order to get an ingredient she needed from the cupboard or refrigerator, but he stayed as close to her as he could until all the sandwiches were made—peanut butter and jelly for Frank, ham sandwiches for everyone else. 

After lunch, Frank was allowed to give Zoe her bone—a real pork bone with scraps of meat still on it and everything which Frank found absolutely repulsive, but Zoe seemed to enjoy it. While she laid on the kitchen floor chomping on her bone, Gerard insisted they set up Frank’s new laptop in the living room while the family watched a movie on TV.

Frank, for the most part, just watched as Gerard set up the laptop for him—working to get it on the house’s wifi so it could download all the things it needed to be up to date. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard started drinking beer immediately after dinner—not because he was stressed, but because he hadn’t been allowed to drink anything the night before. He finished the six pack in a little over two hours, then switched to the liquor—taking shots with his father while his mother watched them and shook her head. 

They were trying to play a board game as a family, but it wasn’t working out well. Gerard was too drunk and giggly to focus, Don didn’t care to learn the rules, Mikey was only paying attention enough to roll the dice and move his piece across the board. Frank and Donna seemed to be the only two really focused on the game, and that was something Gerard was determined to fix.

When it wasn’t his turn, Gerard got up from the table and made his way to the kitchen. He’d bought vodka and rum for the holidays as well as a festive non-alcoholic eggnog mix he fully intended to contaminate once it was open. It was a shame it had to be dairy, though. It would be so easy to spike and get Frankie drunk without him realizing it. For now, he would just have to settle for spiking his orange juice with vodka. 

He made himself a rum and Coke, then brought Frank the glass of orange juice. 

“You look thirsty,” he said when Frank looked at the glass in confusion.

“Gerard,” his mother said, her tone warning him that there’d better not be any liquor in Frank’s cup.

“What?—It’s a rum and Coke. I’m slowing down.”

“I don’t care what you’re drinking—what is in _that?_ ” She asked, looking down at Frank’s glass.

“Orange juice. He hasn’t had anything to drink since dinner—you want him getting all…all dehydrated? Or—Or sick! You’re gonna make him get sick if he doesn’t have vitamin C,” Gerard said, knowing he had to sound like one intelligent motherfucker at that moment. Not even the slightest bit drunk at all.

“You’re wasted,” Mikey said, laughing at him. 

Gerard noticed Donna watching Frank as he took a sip of the orange juice. The boy managed to keep his expression blank even though Gerard knew he made it strong. 

Donna didn’t even realize the drink was spiked until Gerard switched to giving him glasses of rum and Coke after they ran out of orange juice. When Frank started playing the game just as poorly as Gerard, she immediately scolded both of them and folded up the game board. 

Frank tried to stand up from the table to go upstairs to use the bathroom, but ended up losing his balance and falling down before he even managed to take two steps. 

“Frank!” Donna called, going to him while everyone else just stared and laughed, even Gerard who knew he should be worried since Frank’s arm was still in a cast, but unable to control himself. “Are you alright?” She asked, helping him back on his feet. 

“I can’t feel my ass,” Frank said, starting to laugh as well and blushing furiously. 

“Mikey, help him get upstairs,” Donna said, helping to keep Frank on his feet. 

“I’ll take him,” Gerard said, getting up from the table and struggling not to sway too much when he walked. 

“You’re even worse than Frank—no. I want him to _not_ fall down the stairs, not have someone to drag him down.”

“I’m not gonna fall,” Gerard said, putting his hands on Frank’s shoulders and guiding him toward the stairs. “I gotta piss, too.” 

“You can’t go with me—that’s weird,” Frank said, trying to look up at Gerard only to get dizzy and start stumbling around again even though he’d been standing still. 

“Don—help them upstairs,” Donna said, sighing heavily.

“Why, so I can drag both of ‘em down?” He started laughing, not even half as drunk as Gerard was. 

“Mikey—”

“Not doing it,” Mikey said.

“I can take him upstairs,” Gerard said, trying to sound confident as he put his hands on Frank’s shoulders and started guiding him toward the stairs. 

Frank stumbled where Gerard guided him, leaning on him heavily as they started up the steps. 

“Why do I feel so bad?” Frank asked, giggling.

“Like you’re gonna throw up bad?” Gerard asked. 

“No—Like dizzy and spinny and, oh fuck!” Frank started falling backwards, but Gerard caught him and hurried him up the last few steps. 

When they reached the bathroom, Frank tried to push Gerard out, but Gerard refused to go. He grabbed Frank’s face in his hands and stared kissing him, adding tongue when Frank tried to protest. Frank kept pushing at his chest, and once Gerard decided it would probably best to pull back before he screamed, the younger boy started giggling.

“I don’t want you to watch me pee,” Frank said, giggling and blushing hard. 

“Mm? Why not? I’ve watched you do other things,” Gerard said, not sure why he was arguing. He wasn’t into _that,_ but he just didn’t feel like leaving. 

“No! I don’t want you to see!” Frank said, giggling more and pushing on Gerard until he got him to back out of the room. He closed the door once Gerard was in the hallway and locked it to keep him from getting back in. 

Gerard sat on the floor while he waited for Frank to finish, hoping the boy didn’t think he was some kind of creep. When Frank came back out of the bathroom, Gerard was quick to kiss him one last time before going into the bathroom to relieve himself and wash his hands. Frank was waiting for him in the hallway, laying down on his back with his knees up and slowly swaying back and forth. 

“Hi,” Frank said, giggling frantically.

“You’re drunk, not high—stop laughing at me,” Gerard said, smiling and moving to sit on the floor beside Frank whose face was completely red. 

“Do you wanna kiss me?” Frank asked, running his fingers through his hair to get his bangs off his face—looking so damned hot. 

“Yeah, I wanna kiss you,” Gerard said, moving to crawl over Frank’s body and kissing him on the lip. Frank kissed back passionately for all of two seconds before he burst out laughing again and rolled onto his side. 

“What?—What’s so funny?” Gerard asked. 

“You spit on me,” Frank giggled.

“No, I didn’t,” Gerard said, wiping his lips on the back of his hand. His mouth was completely soaked in spit that he was damned sure came from Frank.

“Yeah you did!” Frank argued, laughing and rolling onto his back again. “You should kiss my neck.”

“Oh, I should?” Gerard asked, cocking his eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Frank said, grinning at him and blushing so fucking hard. 

“Why should I?” Gerard asked, smirking more while Frank started squirming around on the floor.

“’Cause it feels good an’ I like it,” Frank said, biting his lip. 

“How can I say no to that?” Gerard asked, climbing over Frank’s body so his knees were on either side of his hips. He pressed a few small kisses onto Frank’s throat and then licked the left side of his neck up to his earlobe which he promptly started suckling. 

Frank immediately lifted his hips upwards and rolled them again Gerard’s, moaning a little though careful to keep quiet. 

“You should—you should touch me,” Frank stammered, writhing on the hallway floor as Gerard nipped at his throat.

“I can’t, Baby. Mom could come upstairs,” Gerard said, grinning at his new discovery. Frank wasn’t a sad drunk or an angry drunk—he was a happy drunk, and lustful one at that. Gerard liked that about him. He liked that a lot. 

“Please?”

But how was he supposed to say no to that? Frank was usually too modest to beg.

Gerard went back to sucking Frank’s neck and brought his hand to Frank’s chest, flicking his thumb over Frank’s right nipple through the rough fabric of his shirt. Frank’s back arched off the floor and he rolled his hips again. Gerard kept swirling his thumb over Frank’s nipple, knowingly dragging the rough material of his shirt over the sensitive bud until Frank started moaning a little too loudly.

“Boys? What are you doing?”

Their mother, at the bottom of the steps.

Frank gasped, more likely at the loss of contact on his body as Gerard sat up too quickly. His head started spinning and he leaned over against the bannister for support.

“Gerard, I feel all…spinny,” Frank whined, draping an arm over his eyes.

Donna started coming up the stairs and Gerard hurried to put a little more space between them before she reached the top of the stairs. “What are you boys doing?” 

“Mom, I’m dizzy,” Frank said, not uncovering his face.

“You just _had_ to get him drunk, didn’t you?” She said, looking at Gerard with disapproval. Gerard shrugged and started rubbing Frank’s leg, trying to comfort him.

“Mom? I’m really dizzy. The whole house is like…spinning.” Frank rolled over onto his stomach, curling his knees under himself. 

“Are you going to throw up?” Donna asked, going over to him and leaning over to rub his back. 

“No… I’m sorry, Momma—I feel so dizzy. Why am I dizzy?”

“You’re drunk.”

“No, I’m not,” Frank said, sounding sad at first, and then giggling. Gerard started laughing, too. Frank was so horrible at lying. 

“Yes you are. If you’re not going to throw up, then—”

“I have to pee again,” Frank said, genuinely sounding upset this time. 

“Well, you’ll need to stand up to do that,” Donna said, grabbing his arm and helping him get onto his feet. Instead of going into the bathroom, he just wrapped his arms around her and started squeezing. 

“I love you, Mommy,” Frank said, laughing against her shoulder.

_“Mommy?_ Jesus Christ, Gerard, how much did you give him to drink?”

“Just the vodka and the rum,” Gerard slurred, standing up as well and helping to pry Frank off of his mother so he could go to the bathroom. 

“Both bottles!?”

“No—half of both.”

“Half of both—Jesus Christ. You’re keeping him up here because I _know_ he’s going to throw up.”

“I’m not gonna throw up,” Frank said, hugging on Gerard once he let go of Donna. “I feel fine—I’m just dizzy.” 

“And being dizzy is what’s going to make you throw up, Frankie,” Donna said. 

“No—I won’t throw up, Momma, I just have to pee,” he whispered the last half of his sentence as if it were some secret. 

“Gerard, help him go to the bathroom,” Donna said, sighing and reaching out to stroke Frank’s cheek, showing him she still loved him even if he was completely sloshed. 

When Frank stumbled into the bathroom on his own, Gerard moved to follow him but his mother grabbed him by the arm and made him hold back.

“What?” He asked, having trouble focusing on her face. He was probably going to throw up before Frank did.

“I saw the hickey on his neck. You’re lucky it’s Christmas. We’re going to have a talk later.”

Yes. Gerard was definitely going to be the first to throw up.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank had thrown up for a good thirty minutes after using the bathroom a second time, then Gerard made him rinse his mouth and brush his teeth before taking him back downstairs. He was still drunk and the house was still spinning around him, but it lessened as he sat on the floor of the living room and played with Zoe, taking her bone and then promptly give it back when her ears drooped. 

“Stop doing that or she’s gonna bite you,” Don warned him as Frank pulled the bone from Zoe’s mouth.

Frank paid him no mind. His Princess knew he was just playing with her. Every time he took the bone she wagged her tail and smacked her front feet on the floor, ready to play—not angry. She loved him enough that Frank was even able to lie down in front of her—holding her bone away from her—and kiss her on the nose before giving the bone back. 

He kept trying to get Gerard to come lie down with him on the floor, but his boyfriend refused. He just sat on the couch and smiled at him whenever Frank commanded his attention. It made him feel bad because he wanted attention—he wanted attention from his boyfriend. 

It didn’t make any sense for Gerard to kiss him in the hallway and not want to even hug him downstairs…

Unable to take being ignored, Frank gave Zoe back her bone for good and crawled over to the couch—not really capable of walking without falling over. He made his way to the cushion beside Gerard and wrapped his arms around him, wanting a hug in return. They’d hugged earlier—no one in the family was suspicious of their hugs. 

“Hi,” Frank said, staring at Gerard, not able to really care about the other people in the room. Donna wasn’t going to be mad at him for hugging his _brother_ on Christmas.

“Hey, Frankie,” Gerard said, putting an arm around Frank’s shoulders. Frank snuggled into his side and sighed happily, feeling much safer with Gerard’s arm around him. 

Frank looked up at him and giggled again, kissing Gerard’s cheek.

“Mm, don’t do that right now, Frankie,” Gerard murmured, so quietly Frank could barely hear him. 

Frank felt a little hurt by the words and tried to fight the feeling by kissing him again. It was just a kiss on the cheek—no one was going to be mad at them. 

“Frankie,” Gerard said, his tone a quiet warning. 

Frank didn’t understand. It hurt. 

He guessed it was rude to kiss Gerard in front of the family if it made him uncomfortable… Maybe it was because Gerard was drunk. Maybe alcohol didn’t make him happy like it made Frank…

Sighing, Frank settled for cuddling down into Gerard’s side and sent a smile across the room to Donna who was watching him out of the corner of her eye. It was still early, but Frank decided it would be a good idea to take a nap.


	49. Chapter 49

_Chapter 49_

Donna couldn’t bring herself to do it. She stared down at the bed—Frank snuggled completely into Gerard’s side, the man’s arm wrapped securely around him , Zoe at their feet staring up at her—but couldn’t bring herself to wake the boys up. Frank didn’t have a shirt on and she had a feeling he didn’t have any pants or underwear on either considering the state of the bedroom. Gerard’s pants were actually strewn over his own bed as if he’d taken them off and thrown them there… Thrown them aside from Frank’s bed.

She was _angry_ with Gerard and she was disappointed in Frank. There was no mistaking what was going on. She’d been naïve before, believing Gerard when he told her he called Frank “Baby” out of habit, believing Frank when he said they only kissed on the cheek. Now she knew better. Now she called to mind the way Frank followed Gerard around, the way he giggled when Gerard looked at him for too long—the way he blushed all the time. 

Frank was in love with Gerard—madly, horribly, completely in love with him. When he cried, he wanted Gerard. When he was happy, he wanted Gerard. 

And Gerard? 

Donna just didn’t know. Did he love Frank?—Did he _use_ him? 

What purpose could Gerard have for a seventeen-year-old boy other than the obvious ones? Other than the sex that was obviously going on right under Donna’s nose—other than having a nearly brainless, loves-struck puppy following his every move? 

Frank was such a broken, _pathetic_ kid… He was desperate for affection. If Gerard so much as insinuated that Frank needed to sleep with him to keep that love and attention, Frank was going to do it. He couldn’t help himself. 

Donna didn’t like it one bit.

But as she stared down at them, she felt sympathy—she understood. Gerard had been torn apart over his last breakup and hadn’t dated since, close to two years now. And for Gerard, who had hardly been single for more than a month since he started college, to go two years without a boyfriend was frightening. He was lonely. His self-confidence had suffered so much. All he seemed to do with himself was work and sleep and drink. Now, since Frank had moved in, he’d started drinking less and sleeping less—he spent all of his time with Frank, of course, but for the most part he was sober. 

And Frank seemed better because of it too…

_For now,_ Donna thought, trying to convince herself to go through with her plan to wake Gerard up—to tell him to keep his hands off Frank. _For now_ Frank was doing well. What good could come of it? Honestly? Gerard was twenty-three; Frank was seventeen. Frank wasn’t mature enough for _this._

And it _killed_ her to admit that Gerard—of everyone Frank encountered from Mikey to his therapist—was the one who understood him the most. He seemed to know what each of Frank’s expression meant, what was actually sadness and what was embarrassment or shame. He seemed to know how Frank would react even before Frank knew. 

Sighing, Donna retreated back upstairs and sat at the dining room table with her head in her hands. 

“I thought you were going to talk to them,” her husband said. He stood by the kitchen sink, making a pot of coffee. Typically he’d still be in bed, but she’d made him get up in case she needed back up when she confronted Gerard. 

“They’re asleep,” she muttered, not wanting to admit how little commitment she had to her plans.

“I thought the plan was to wake them up.”

“It _was…_ But they’re in bed together.”

Don almost dropped the coffee pot he’d been pouring from the surprise.

“Isn’t that more of a reason to wake them up!? That’s what this whole thing is about!”

“Yes, I know. But you know how Frank is. I’m _pissed_ at Gerard, but ambushing them isn’t going to do anything but scare Frank—and then he’ll try to kill himself or run away or something. There has to be a better way…”

“Do you want me to talk to him instead? He cares more about what you think, but if he thinks you’re mad he flips his lid.”

“Yes, but he’s scared of you—you intimidate him.”

“But is he going to try to kill himself if I tell him to stop climbing in bed with his brother?”

“I don’t know,” Donna said, rubbing at her temples. Frank was sensitive. He would probably panic either way no matter who told him—no matter how they said it. They could tell him through a comedic song and dance and he would still have a panic attack over it. 

“We can’t just leave it be, Donna. If that social worker finds out, she’ll take him from us and Gerard will probably end up in jail.”

“Frank’s seventeen, though. He’s not a child…”

“He’ still underage.”

“I just feel… It’s—if we…” Donna growled and leaned back in her seat, frustrated at how much confliction she was feeling. “Frank needs to grow up. He’s _seventeen_ and half the time he acts like he’s under twelve. Relationships are _mature._ They help people grow up. If he’s happy with Gerard—I know it’s weird—but I want him to have that. What I don’t want is Gerard pressuring him into things he’s _not_ ready for.”

“Do you want to just talk to Gerard then?”

“Maybe… I don’t know. I want to make sure Frank’s alright, but I don’t see how I can without him freaking out on me. I don’t want him trying to run away again—and it’s _Christmas._ He was so happy yesterday. I don’t want to take that from him.” 

“He was happy when he was drunk.”

“He was happy when he got his gifts, too,” Donna argued. “He just gets emotional. He doesn’t know what to say.”

“I still think the guitar was a bad idea.”

“I wanted him to have one so he would spend more time with Mikey. Mikey can teach him to play.” 

“It takes away from Mikey’s gift. It doesn’t mean as much for him to get something nice if Frank gets the same thing.”

“Mikey’s old enough to understand we’re not doing it to take _away_ from him. Mikey’s guitar is brand new—Frank’s is used; it’s all scratched up. If Mikey’s jealous, at least he knows his cost more money.”

“I guess you’re right…”

Donna didn’t feel like returning to that argument. Her husband had been against her picking out a guitar for Frank from the moment she’d proposed it, but she wanted the boy to feel included. Not to mention, with Gerard buying him a laptop, Donna was at a loss for what to get him. He needed something nice as well. 

“I don’t know what to say to Frank,” Donna said, sighing heavily as she returned to the matter at hand. It did no good to argue about gifts already given. 

“Just talk to Gerard and make him tell Frank. He obviously knows how to talk to him.”

“That could work, but…”

“But?” Don asked, sipping at his cup of coffee. He obviously didn’t want the discussion to go on much longer, but was unwilling to tell her to make up her mind or be quiet.

“He needs to know… I just don’t want him to panic.”

“He’s going to panic. It’s what he does,” her husband said. 

Donna looked over at the digital clock on the microwave. It was still early, but she had an idea… To get to Frank she had to be kind. She couldn’t show any anger or anything similar—not disappointment, not frustration…

She didn’t like the way his relationship with Gerard seemed to be progressing. Frank was underage—it was risky and dangerous, not to mention _illegal._ She wished Frank was with someone his own age—wished _Gerard_ were with someone his own age—but the two were inseparable, even though Gerard knew they’d been caught. She didn’t want to break them up, but she wanted them to know she wasn’t exactly pleased that they’d been taking advantage of their room together to do inappropriate, far too mature things. 

She also had a fear that coming off like she was trying to get between them would just cause their behavior to get even worse. Gerard could try to move out and take Frank with him… Or Frank would panic and commit suicide when no one was watching. 

Donna didn’t want him to die over getting in trouble for something that made him so happy. 

However, Donna thought she might have an idea of something she could do to show she supported them being happy, but made it obvious to Gerard that she was watching his every move. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard could hear his mother upstairs fixing breakfast and knew that at any moment she would come downstairs and catch them. Frank was still asleep, though. One of his arms was trapped under Frank’s shoulder and though he tried to squirm away, Frank looked so peaceful and he didn’t want to disturb him. There wasn’t a point anymore. His mom had pretty much told him last night that she was on to their shit. She wasn’t stupid and if she saw the hickey he’d drunkenly chewed into Frank’s neck, she knew he and the boy weren’t just playing around. 

She’d heard him call Frank “Baby” before and she’d heard them kissing. Now she saw how in each other’s face they were when drunk and there was no misinterpreting that. Gerard just prayed she hadn’t heard Frank pleading for Gerard to touch him—or the way he moaned when Gerard complied. Then Frank had kissed him on the couch…

Yeah, his mother knew exactly what was happening between them. There was no use hiding it now. 

Gerard tilted his chin down to kiss Frank on the mouth. In the dim light of the room, his lips looked a shade close to red and his bottom lip was sticking out a bit more than usual—making it look more full and lush. Gerard kissed him again, trying to be a little more forceful in order to get Frank to wake up. 

The boy just groaned and scooted even closer, getting warmer as he snuggled into Gerard’s side. Gerard smiled at him and kissed the top of his head. This was probably the last time Donna was going to allow them to sleep in the same room and Gerard wanted to let Frank make the most of it.

The night before, Frank had been all over him. He’d said before he didn’t want to be sinful on Christmas, but the alcohol in his veins told him otherwise. Three times Frank begged to go all the way, not caring when Gerard said “no, you’re drunk” over twenty times. Gerard refused, but settled for fingering him. He even managed to start scissoring him instead of just moving the fingers in an out, getting Frank used to the feeling of being stretched, and—toward the end—got to fit three fingers inside without Frank even making a noise of protest. 

He hoped Frank wouldn’t be upset about it when he woke up… If he ever decided to wake up.

Even when Zoe heard a noise upstairs and leapt off the bed to go investigate, Frank barely even stirred. 

Gerard sighed and settled for pulling Frank as close to him as he could and then rolling on his back, forcing Frank’s body to lie on top of him. That at least got Frank’s eyes to flutter open and he let out a low, sleepy whine. 

“You gotta wake up. Mom’s making breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” Frank asked, nuzzling Gerard’s neck.

“Yeah.”

“But it’s early,” Frank whined, hugging Gerard around his chest and keeping his face buried in the other man’s neck. “And I hurt…”

“Hurt?” Gerard asked, sitting up a little. “Like…your head?”

“No…”

“What hurts?” Gerard asked, afraid of the obvious answer if it wasn’t a hangover. Frank may not have felt much pain the night before because of all the alcohol, but that had worn off long ago. Gerard didn’t remember if there’d been blood on his fingers last night when they’d finished or not. He really hadn’t meant to hurt him.

“Inside… Did we go all the way?”

That question made Gerard sit up all the way, making Frank sit in his lap. 

“You don’t remember last night?” He asked, feeling his breathing start to pick up. 

“I… I remember you touching me—but it didn’t hurt. Now it hurts.” Frank was starting to get upset as well, thinking he’d lost his virginity on _Christmas_ without even remembering it. 

“I was too rough with you, Baby. I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t do anything other than what we normally do. I wasn’t going to go all the way if you were drunk.”

“But it hurts…”

“Bad?” Gerard asked, rubbing Frank’s shoulders and trying to get the boy to meet his gaze. Frank, still sleepy, just kept blinking and had his head down. 

“Not really…I guess. It just… It stings.”

Gerard wasn’t about to tell him that Frank hadn’t been complaining last night. He just returned to hugging him and kissed his cheek.

“I’m sorry. I was pretty drunk too… It’s not an excuse, but I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Frank hugged him back, seeming to calm down a little, and rested his chin on Gerard’s shoulder.

“Did Mom catch us kissing last night?” Sounding confused, 

“She saw us in the hallway,” Gerard said. “And you kissed me in the living room right in front of her and Dad.”

“Shit—did I?” Frank asked, finally appearing to have woken up all the way. He pulled back from Gerard and stared at him in shock.

“Yeah…”

“D-Did… Did Mom get mad? Is—Is Donna mad at me? Shit… _Shit!_ I knew not to drink that much.” Frank was rubbing at his face and squirming around in Gerard’s lap. Gerard was thankful he’d at least gotten Frank to put his pajama pants back on before passing out the night before and put his own on as well. “I-Is she going to kick me out?”

“No—No, Frankie,” Gerard said, stroking Frank’s arms in an attempt to soothe him. “It’ll be okay.” 

Frank groaned and moved to lie at Gerard’s side instead, covering his face with the pillow. 

“Did she get mad? Sh-she can take my gifts back if she’s mad at me. I don’t want her to kick me out…”

“No one’s kicking you out and no one’s taking your presents back. It’s okay. I promise.”

Almost as if to prove him wrong, Gerard heard a set of dishes clank upstairs and then footsteps approached the top of the basement steps. Gerard tried to get up, but Frank quickly reached out and snagged his arm.

“I don’t want to be alone,” he whimpered, looking at Gerard with one of the most helpless, pitiful looks he’d seen on his face in a while. 

Gerard wanted nothing more than to flee and save them even more trouble when he heard his mother’s footsteps on the stairs, but he couldn’t abandon Frank like that. If she came down and saw them in separate beds but with Frank half-dressed and looking tearful, she was going to know something had happened between them anyway. 

There was nothing he could do. He was trapped. The only option he had was to lie back down beside Frank and wait for the eruption—wait for his mother to tell him he was a pedophile and to get away from Frank. 

Except his mother hardly even looked startled when she came down into the room carrying one large plate crammed full of pancakes and Frank’s vegetarian sausage with two forks speared into it. She had the plate in one hand and two glasses of juice in the other—both a little less than full so she could carry them by holding the rims between her fingers. Apparently she hadn’t wanted to make two trips—and apparently she’d expected to find them both in the same bed. 

“I made you boys some breakfast,” she said, handing the plate to Gerard without looking at him. She set the glasses down on Frank’s nightstand and then looked down at Frank. “You should drink something, Frankie. You need to get hydrated after last night.”

“I’m sorry, Donna,” Frank whispered, staring at her like a deer in headlights—he didn’t even sit up.

“It’s not your fault—Now come on, sit up. Get a drink.”

Frank immediately obeyed her and took a sip from the glass, his hand shaking as he returned it. Gerard felt bad for him and probably would’ve tried rubbing his shoulder if his hands weren’t full of the giant, _heavy_ plate of food. 

“What? You’re not hungry for once?” his mother asked him, sending him a cold look when she noticed Gerard had yet to cut into the pancakes. “Or do you need to wash your hands first?—it smells awful down here.”

Poor Frank looked like he’d choked on his tongue, but Donna didn’t pay him any mind. With that, she turned and went back upstairs as if nothing were amiss. 

“Sh-she… Is she m-mad?” Frank asked, staring after her and trembling. “I don’t… I don’t understand.”

He looked over at the plate in Gerard’s hand, but didn’t dare to take a fork from the stack of pancakes. 

“Well…she obviously knowns were together,” Gerard said, looking at the plate as well.

“But—But then why isn’t she saying anything? I-I don’t understand.”

“I don’t know, Baby,” Gerard said, setting the plate in his lap and taking out both the forks. He handed one to Frank, but the boy looked too upset to try eating. 

“Sh-should I go talk to her? I… I don’t know what to say, but—but I don’t want her mad.”

“There’s nothing to say, Frank. She knows we’re together—that’s what this whole thing is about. That’s why she gave us one plate.”

“D-Do you think she came down and _saw us_ last night?” Frank asked, trembling. 

“I have no idea, Baby. Just…just try eating. We’ll talk to her in a little bit.”

Frank struggled to take a bite of food, but seemed a little more confident when he was able to swallow and keep the food down. Gerard was surprised he wasn’t crying yet even after being caught shirtless in bed next to his brother.

( ) ( ) ( )

When she heard Frank and Gerard moving around downstairs, Donna told Mikey to go take Zoe for a walk. He protested at first, but when she reminded him that she’d bought him a guitar for Christmas, Mikey quit arguing and hooked Zoe to her lead, struggling to find her collar under her red sweater. 

No sooner had he left did Frank and Gerard appear in the doorway of the basement stairwell, peering at Donna where she sat at the kitchen table. Gerard had the plate in his hands, still full of food, though it appeared both of them had eaten—even Frank, the nervous wreck. 

He was _still_ shaking as he looked at her, and he kept dropping his chin down, unable to look her in the eye. 

“Finished?” she asked, standing up from the table and taking the plate from Gerard.

“Yeah,” Gerard mumbled, putting an arm around Frank once his hands were free.

“Frank, you hardly touched your sausage. Don’t you like this brand?” Donna asked as she scraped the food into the trashcan. Frank watched her remorsefully, ashamed he couldn’t fit more in his stomach. Donna had known she’d made too much, but once she’d started cooking, she found herself unable to stop. Cooking distracted her and gave her time to think about how she wanted to handle this situation.

Telling them no and to try breaking them up would either end with Frank killing himself or both of them becoming resentful toward her. And she really didn’t want to end their relationship even if she only saw it ending badly anyway she looked at it. Gerard was too old for Frank—and Frank was just too young. He had his whole life ahead of him. He was going to go off to college and meet new boys—boys his own age. 

In the end, Donna realized there was little she could do if she didn’t want to hurt Frank. She could tell them not to get into bed together as well, but she knew it would probably only work a week before Gerard chipped away at Frank’s self-control. And if she made Frank switch rooms with Mikey, Gerard could just as easily get into Frank’s bed at night—or they’d start doing it on the couch, and Donna sure as hell didn’t want that.

Donna carried the plate to the sink and made to start washing it, but as soon as she’d turned on the faucet, Frank was at her side, trying to get the plate from her hands so he could clean it instead. She resisted at first, telling him he was shaking too hard and was going to drop the plate, but it just distressed him more. He started apologizing to her and hugged her, starting to get teary-eyed. 

Not wanting to have him sobbing into her shoulder, Donna handed him the plate and kissed the top of his head before combing her fingers through her hair.

“You need a haircut, Frankie. The social worker’s going to start thinking I’m neglecting you.”

“I’m sorry, Donna,” Frank whispered. She noticed it that he’d stopped calling her mother again, the way he always did when he thought he’d done something to make her angry. To her, it appeared as though it was how he punished himself. He wanted little more in life than a kind mother, and when he thought he’d upset her, he denied himself the privilege of seeing Donna as a real parent. 

“Frankie, call me Mom. You know you’re my son,” Donna said, hugging him as he scrubbed the plate. It was something she never would’ve dared to say before—not wanting Frank to feel like she was trying to replace his mother, even if his mother was cruel to him—but she wanted him to stop thinking she was going to take that affection from him. 

“Ma, can we just quit with this already?” Gerard asked, coming over to the sink and turning off the water before Frank even finished rinsing the soap off of it. “You’re driving us both crazy. We know you know—would you just say something?”

“Say what?” Donna asked, turning the faucet back on and finishing rinsing the plate before cleaning off the forks and rinsing them as well. “I know you two are together and have been for…well, obviously for _a while?_ I know you…call him Baby because you’re sleeping with him and you lied to me about it?”

Frank moved a step away from her when she spoke and started chewing on his lip. 

“And so you make us breakfast?” Gerard asked.

“What am I supposed to do?” Donna asked, turning off the sink and set the dishes aside the drying rack. “Frank’s underage, but he’s not stupid. If he wants to mess around with a twenty-three-year-old, pretend security guard, then that’s his business. I just hope you know if the social worker finds out, she could take him.” 

“Don’t talk about him like he’s not standing right there,” Gerard said. 

“I’m not. He’s not the one doing anything wrong.”

“But I am?” Gerard asked, daring to sound offensive. 

“Did you have sex with _him_ last night?” Donna asked. Frank’s face immediately turned bright red and lowered his head.

“No—It doesn’t matter! Even if we did, it’s not like I did it myself. It takes two people.”

“Not according to court, Gerard. If you and Frank want to mess around, then fine. If you get caught, though…it’s going to be trouble. And if you hurt him, I _will_ kick you out. You know better.”

“M-Mom,” Frank stammered. “I-I didn’t mean to—”

“No one means to fall in love, Frank, it just happens. Just be safe.”

“But—” Frank was cut off the when the door was thrown open and Mikey burst in, Zoe in tow, shaking off her fur. 

“It’s fucking cold!” Mikey yelled, shaking and slamming the door closer. “Jesus Christ, it’s fucking cold out.” As he unhooked Zoe’s leash, he noticed everyone was staring at him, quietly. “What?”


	50. Chapter 50

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is awkward to me, but...it's written, so it's posted. Hopefully I don't lose anybody!

_Chapter 50_

Frank didn’t know what to do with himself. He spent most of the day in bed, unable to talk to Donna or look Don in the eye. Dinner was awkward and it hurt him that Gerard chose to stay upstairs afterwards instead of coming down and lying with him. He wanted to _talk_ about this, but he knew Gerard was sick of him asking if Donna was mad. No matter what Gerard said, Frank still couldn’t make sense of how she had reacted. She caught them and then made them _breakfast?_ She acted like nothing was wrong, but did she really feel that way? Did she really not care?

Frank was so scared that she would hate him and kick him out—or kick Gerard out… Or maybe throw them both out. 

He had no doubt that if yesterday hadn’t been Christmas, Donna would’ve yelled at them. Maybe even hit him. There was no way she would want someone as messed up as Frank following her _real_ son around. Even if she wanted Frank to call her mom and said she saw him as a son, he would never mean even half as much to her as Gerard and Mikey did.

When it got late, Frank went upstairs to go shower and noticed that Gerard wasn’t in the living room where he thought he’d be.

“Where’s…”

“Gerard?” Donna said, not taking her eyes off the television as Frank slowly moved toward the staircase. 

“Yeah…”

“I don’t know. He went out a couple hours ago.”

Frank felt his stomach tighten. How could Gerard just leave him and not say anything? Not come downstairs, not text? He felt _abandoned,_ and he kept his head bowed as he hurried upstairs without saying anything more.

He tried to keep his mind off it as he wrapped a plastic bag around his cast and showered, but once he’d stepped out and started drying off, he caught his reflection in the mirror and remembered why he should’ve expected this to happen. He wasn’t good enough for Gerard. He was _ugly._ His rough patches were never going to go away. His dark marks weren’t going away. The scars weren’t going away. He was inferior to Gerard in every way. 

Gerard knew that. 

Frank quickly dressed himself, keeping his eyes off the mirror before he started to cry. No one said anything to him as he hurried down to his bedroom, but Frank’s breath caught in his throat when he got to his room and saw Gerard standing at his desk. 

“Oh, hey, Baby,” Gerard said, turning and smiling at him. His face was red like he’d just gotten in from outside and he still had his scarf on. 

“H-Hey,” Frank stammered, his mouth dry and sticking. 

“Are you okay?” Gerard asked, setting a black bag down on his desk and coming over to Frank, his expression concerned. 

“Um… Yeah, I-I’m fine,” Frank said, unwilling now to say anything about what had happened in fear Gerard would leave him again. 

“No you’re not. What’s wrong?” Gerard asked, putting his hands on Frank’s shoulders and rubbing them softly. Frank looked down and shrugged, then pulled away and went to lie down on his bed. “Frankie?”

“You left without telling me,” Frank mumbled, looking at the bed instead of his boyfriend…ex-boyfriend, maybe.

“Yeah… I just wanted to get out for a bit. I was just going to get coffee, but the place was packed so I just…kept driving. I was going to get you a decaf soy latte to help you sleep.”

“Why couldn’t I go?” Frank asked, daring to look up at Gerard. As soon as he made eye contact, Gerard came over to his bed and sat down beside him. “Are you…mad at me?” Frank asked, knowing that question pissed Gerard off more than anything else.

“I’m not mad, Baby,” Gerard said, reaching over to pet Frank’s hair even though it was still wet from his shower. “I just needed to get out for a bit. I felt all…claustrophobic here with Mom. I was freaking out and I didn’t want to take things out on you.”

“I was making you mad?” Frank asked, feeling the bolt of pain in his chest again.

“No—No, Frank, not mad. I just… _I_ get anxious. I get _freaked out._ You know when I get anxious and you come to help which is sweet and I love it—but today I was anxious in a bad way and was scared I’d snap at you. Not because of anything you did, but because I’m…I’m bad at confrontation. Mom scared the hell out of me.”

“You stayed upstairs with her all day,” Frank said. “You didn’t want to sit with me.”

“I stayed upstairs with her because I wanted her to just tell me off. I know she wants to—I know she’s not that happy about us being together. I just wanted to get it over with. But she didn’t say anything and I just…I just needed to go out for a bit.”

“Do you think Donna’s going to make you move out?” Frank asked.

“No… I don’t think so. She knows if she does anything you’re…not going to take it well.”

The words might’ve hurt if Frank didn’t know they were true. 

“What did you buy?” Frank asked, looking over at the black bag on Gerard’s desk.

“Oh… Yeah, I got… Some stuff.” Gerard got up and crossed the room, picking up the bag and looking at it. Frank sat up in the bed and watched him.

“What stuff?” Frank asked.

“Um…” Gerard looked over at him and then down at the bag. He held it open in his hands and stared at whatever was inside, then shook his head and closed it. “Let’s…let’s talk for a little bit, Baby.”

“Talk?” Frank asked, biting his lip. “D-Did I…did I do anything?”

“No—No, that’s not it,” Gerard said, coming over with the bag and sitting next to Frank again. “Kind of…the opposite, maybe. I want to…give you a different kind of gift.”

“It’s…for me?” Frank asked, leaning forward but not brave enough to reach for the bag.

“Yeah—well, for _us._ ”

“Like another Christmas present?” Frank asked, scooting a little closer. He wanted to see what was inside, but Gerard was keeping it tightly closed. 

“Um—No, not exactly. I was going to get it before Christmas, but…the crowds and shit…and I was kind of out of money, but my paycheck was deposited today and… Well, fuck.”

“I don’t… Is it…expensive? I’ll try not to cry if it’s expensive,” Frank said, thinking that might be the reason Gerard was afraid to show him what was in the bag.

“Well, there’s no way to explain it so…” Gerard pushed the bag into Frank’s lap and then stared across the room at the wall. He was starting blush and Frank fidgeted before opening the bag and looking inside. 

There were a couple of boxes inside, but Frank couldn’t see what they were. He was afraid to just dump the contents out onto the bed since Gerard seemed embarrassed, so he took one of the boxes—tall and narrow—into his hand and pulled it out. 

Immediately he felt his cheeks grow hot and he would’ve dropped the box were he not frozen in shock. 

The box was clear and there was a long, bright green “vibe” inside. He didn’t exactly know what it was, but he understood right away what it was meant for.

He tried asking what it was, but his throat kept clenching up. It was sex stuff—the bag was full of sex stuff and Frank didn’t know what to say about it. He was scared and anxious, but his stomach was fluttering a little. Gerard, he knew, would never do anything to hurt him, but it made him nervous just looking at the long, green… _thing._

“D-Does it…”

Gerard looked over and took the box from Frank’s hand, then got up from the bed. 

Frank immediately set the black bag aside and chewed his bottom lip, fearing he’d made Gerard angry. Gerard went over to his deck and pulled open the drawer. He fished around for a little bit and then pulled out a half-empty pack of batteries. Once he had two of them he came back over to the bed and sat down, opening the clear plastic box around the “vibe.”

Frank watched him out of the corner of his eye, almost afraid to be caught watching even though he knew Gerard bought the thing for him. 

“Gerard?”

“Hm? It’s okay, Baby. If you don’t like it, we don’t have to use it—ever. Okay?” Gerard said, flashing a smile as he took off the bottom of the long, green “vibe” and slipped the batteries inside. 

“What…what is it?” Frank asked, knowing what it _had_ to be and where it was going to be put if he allowed it, but not sure what the batteries were for. 

“It’s a vibrator,” Gerard said, trying to sound casual, but his voice cracked a little. 

“But—” Frank’s words were cut off when Gerard twisted the bottom back onto the green “vibe” and it stared buzzing. “Why does it do that?” He asked, his eyes getting wide. That didn’t seem pleasant—or natural. Or like anything he wanted going inside of him. 

“Because it feels nice,” Gerard said, turning it off and setting it down on the bed. 

Frank squirmed a little in his seat, staring at the item and then looking up at Gerard anxiously. It was supposed to feel good, but he couldn’t imagine how—and they’d just gotten caught this morning. How did Gerard feel confident enough to go buy weird sex _things?_

“Here,” Gerard said, taking the bag from Frank and dumping out the contents the way Frank was afraid to do. There was a larger box with a strange, black and purple floral design on the front, then two plastic packages that had oddly shaped, plastic _things_ inside. Frank stared at them in shock and covered his face to hide his blush.

“G-Gerard, I-I don’t know—”

“If you don’t want to, we won’t ever use them, okay? I just thought these might be a good way to…to get you used to bigger things. I’m really serious about us, you know? And I want to make sure our first time…doesn’t hurt you.”

“B-But these look _hard._ They’ll hurt,” Frank said, staring at one of the oddly shaped, black items inside the clear, plastic packaging. 

“No—No, they don’t hurt.”

“But they…they look weird,” Frank said, staring down at the boxes and packaging. There was some sort of glittery pink string with different sized bubbles spaced evenly along the thin, plastic string. Another package actually had a clear, plastic replica of a penis in it—but it was small. Much smaller than himself and definitely smaller than Gerard’s. “I-I don’t even know what they are,” Frank said.

“They’re toys, Baby. I just want you to get used to, you know, having things…in there.”

“This goes inside?” Frank asked, picking up the package with the little, pink string of bubbles.

“Yeah,” Gerard said, taking the package from him and picking at the tape with his fingers until he could pry it open.

“B-but…” Frank stared and stammered, feeling dumb and embarrassed. He wanted to know more, but asking just felt _wrong._ It wasn’t exactly _sinful,_ just…awkward. Weird. He liked just touching Gerard himself and having Gerard touch him with his hands. There was nothing to wonder about what Gerard’s hands were going to do—or his mouth or his fingers. But what even _were_ these things? Aside from the _obvious,_ phallic one.

“These are pretty nice—get you used to…to opening up and letting things in and—and out.”

“And what about that?” Frank asked, pointing at one of the other clear packages. The item inside was shaped strangely, a little thick and curved in a “C” shape—though not exactly. 

_“That_ I think you might like. It’s for your prostate. It vibrates a little,” Gerard said, smirking at him a little. “Makes you feel nice.”

“Do…do you use these?” Frank asked, swallowing hard and daring to pick up the black and purple box. 

“I used to have some, but I threw them away back when…back when I didn’t want anyone finding them.” Gerard watched as Frank opened the box, and laughed when Frank started blushing hard and set the box aside quickly. 

The inside flap of the box read “Pleasure Plugs” and Frank was embarrassed to see three different sized “plugs” in the box. The first had been small—no wider than two of Gerard’s fingers, but the third one looked massive in comparison and it scared him. There was no way that could go in without hurting and Frank was scared for when Gerard would try. 

In the pile of packages there were also a couple of bottles containing clear liquid and a box of condoms that made Frank bite his lip in embarrassment. The skin was starting to become chapped and sore. He hoped Gerard wasn’t going to go all the way tonight… If he asked, Frank would be compelled to say yes after all the nice things he got for Christmas, but he really didn’t want to. And all these new things were making him anxious. 

“We don’t have to use them if you don’t like them,” Gerard said, smiling again as if Frank refusing to use them wouldn’t be a waste of money. Frank couldn’t say no and deep down he didn’t really want to. He wanted to see if they felt good and secretly he wondered if the toys would make it so Gerard _could_ touch him everywhere at once. He could have a toy inside and Gerard could stroke him, and play with his chest and kiss him. 

Frank wanted that. He wanted that badly.

“C-Can we use… Can we try one now?” Frank asked. “Mom will go to bed soon and I can be quiet.” He started chewing his lip as hard as he could. 

“Not now, Baby,” Gerard said, smiling and pooling the items back together and putting them in the bag. 

Frank’s heart immediately sank and he felt a ripple of hurt go through his chest. What had he done to make Gerard change his mind?

“We’ve gotta do it later. I need to clean them first or else you could get sick. Ma might not care that we’re together, but she’d kick my ass if she saw me cleaning these in the kitchen sink. You know what I mean?” Gerard asked, smiling and leaning over to kiss Frank on the mouth. Frank kissed him back as passionately as he could, hoping Gerard would touch him. 

He didn’t want to wait until later—he was anxious and excited and he couldn’t just lie there and wait for “later” to come. 

“You don’t wanna wait, do you?” Gerard asked, grinning as he scooted closer and started kissing Frank on the neck. 

Frank gasped and leaned back against the head of the bed, opening his legs so Gerard could touch him wherever he wanted. Except Gerard wouldn’t touch him; he just kissed and nibbled on his neck, leaving a gap between their bodies so whenever Frank rolled his hips, there was no way to get friction. It was almost painful, but no matter how much Frank whimpered, Gerard wouldn’t do any more than kiss. 

“Just wait ‘til Mom goes to bed, okay? Then I promise I’ll treat you real good, alright?” Gerard kissed his neck one last time and then pulled away. 

“B-But…” Frank bit his lip and looked down at the front of his pajama pants, tented from the strain of his erection. He felt exposed this way. He didn’t like having his arousal on full display and being rejected just made him feel so low. 

“Don’t get upset, Baby,” Gerard said, reaching out to stroke Frank’s hair and trace his jawline with his fingertips. “I promise, you’ll be taken care of. Okay? I’ll do anything you want.”

The words made Frank blush even harder than he already was. He liked the idea of toys—he really did—but at the same time he was nervous about them. Up until ten minutes ago, he didn’t even know such things existed and—even though it was an awful habit—he couldn’t help but wonder what his mother would have to say about them, or what she’d think if she knew he’d used them. She already knew he was a filthy sodomite, but was there a word for a person who used things like this? 

Maybe he shouldn’t use them…but Gerard had already spent the money on them and it would be rude to waste it. He really hoped they’d work like Gerard said—make it easier for him and less painful their first real time together—but he was still nervous. The night before, Gerard had put in three fingers and he’d been sore most of the morning—he couldn’t imagine how bad it would feel when they went all the way. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard couldn’t help looking over his shoulder constantly as he washed the toys in the kitchen sink. He had laid paper towels out on the counter for them to dry on, and he was so paranoid that his mother or, even worse, his _father_ would come downstairs and see all the stimulators and plugs… There was no doubt in his mind that he would be thrown out on the spot and no amount of explaining was going to help or make it go away. 

He honestly didn’t know what he had been thinking when he went in the store. At first he’d been driving aimlessly, not really wanting to be anywhere or go anywhere. Then he saw the sign and thought he may as well stop and pick up some lube so they could quit using the lotion. 

The first words to him out of the clerk’s mouth, after she’d checked his ID, was to ask if Santa didn’t bring him what he wanted for Christmas. How pathetic did he have to look to spend the night after Christmas as the sex shop? 

He thought about texting Frank from the store and proposing the idea of using toys, but was afraid the boy might panic—or that Mikey or someone might see the text before Frank did. At first he was just going to buy the lube—one flavored one plain—then he’d grabbed a box of condoms. And the condoms were next to the vibrators…and the green one looked to be just perfect for Frank. It was long, but thin—enough to get him use to the feeling of something going in so far, but not stretching him enough to hurt at all. He was scared that if he hurt Frank even a little bit, the boy would pull away from him and might not come back… 

He should’ve left it at the vibrator though. He really should have. But then he kept walking around looking at all the toys—some far too expensive, others way too weird. Then he saw the clear, little dildo and thought it would be the best thing to get Frank used to something a little bigger and a little longer. It was a bit more realistic looking than Gerard cared for since it had veins and even testicles—which served as a base so Gerard wouldn’t have to worry about it getting lost in Frank’s body if something went wrong. Having that happen would _horrify_ Frank. So if he bought the dildo, the vibrator—which had no base—could be used strictly for external play. 

But as soon as he’d resolved to buy the dildo as well, he began to fear that it might be too big to start with. So he’d picked up the starter plugs and went to check out. That was when the clerk told him there was a buy one get one free if he picked his free item from the store’s box of clearance and discontinued items. He spent an embarrassing, awkward amount of time sifting through a box of cheap vibrators, odd novelty toys, and girly shit to find one half-decent prostate massager and medium sized anal beads. 

He could’ve got a third free item, but there was really nothing else to catch his eye besides a cock ring and he didn’t want to even try explaining to Frank why that could be useful. The woman offered to give him a free sample DVD, but Gerard turned it down. Watching straight porn with Frank wasn’t anywhere on his list of fantasies and he’d prefer to not have the video lying around for Frank to find in his room. 

As soon as he stepped out of the store, the shame and self-loathing settled around him. He’d spent _way more_ money than he should’ve, and he was _definitely_ going to have to ask his parents to help pay his car insurance bill on time. Frank probably wouldn’t even _like_ the idea of using toys, he thought as he’d driven home. Frank didn’t like the idea of sin—and they’d _just_ got caught.

Yeah, his mom seemed supporting and maybe even disinterested, but it was only because she knew Frank would kill himself if she showed anger. Frank wasn’t going to want these…

Gerard didn’t even know why he dared to give them to Frank. In a way it was out of desperation—he’d spent the money, he did it because he wanted them to get them to the next level without causing pain.

And, to Gerard’s surprise, Frank hadn’t responded that badly. He even seemed a bit excited about it and Gerard couldn’t believe that Frank had been wanting to try one while their mom was still awake upstairs. 

Now Gerard just hoped Frank wouldn’t have psyched himself out by the time Gerard finished cleaning the toys and brought them downstairs. 

Once they were clean and dry, Gerard returned them to their packaging and the black bag, then cleaned up the sink and counter for good measure before heading back down to his and Frank’s room. 

Frank was sitting in his own bed, nervously petting Zoe and looking up with big eyes when Gerard came back to the room. 

“Hi,” Frank said, biting his lip anxiously and scratching Zoe’s ear.

“Hey, baby. You feelin’ okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” Frank stammered, looking down at Zoe and then back up at Gerard.

Gerard wanted to ask if he was still interested in messing around, but Frank looked so anxious that he didn’t dare. If Frank wanted it, he knew he had to ask for it. 

He set the bag full of items on his desk and then started changing into his pajamas, going slow in case Frank decided to tell him to stop and come over to his bed—but the boy stayed silent. He just sat there, petting Zoe and watching him—his gaze tearing holes into Gerard’s back. If he’d changed his mind, Gerard wasn’t going to push it. He wanted Frank to feel safe with him, and pressuring him would do the exact opposite. 

He’d learned that well enough the day Frank had come home from therapy and told him bluntly “you make me do things I don’t want to.” That had been the most horrible thing Frank had ever said to him—the implications crushing and painful. He’d pushed Frank too far and it had hurt him and scared him. Gerard didn’t want to put him in a position like that again because he knew how hard it was for Frank to muster the courage to say Gerard had gone too far. He didn’t want to go too far and have Frank afraid to speak up about it.

“Is Mom asleep?” Frank asked.

“Yeah. No one’s up except us,” Gerard said, changing quickly into his pajama pants before going over to Frank’s bed and leaning down for a kiss. Frank kissed him readily, even nipping Gerard’s bottom lip when he pulled away. “You’ve never done that before,” Gerard said, smiling at him and kissing the corner of his mouth.

“You do it to me,” Frank said quietly, clutching onto Gerard’s sleep shirt to keep him from backing away. 

“You look kind of tired,” Gerard said. Actually, Frank looked nervous, but Gerard wanted to give the boy an easy way out if he decided he was too scared to go through with anything. 

“I… Yeah,” Frank whispered, looking up at Gerard anxiously. 

“Do you want to just cuddle up?—Get warm?” Gerard asked, smiling and keeping his voice as soft and mellow as he could. Frank needed to feel safe with him, not pressured—protected and loved, not like a mindless toy.

“I don’t want you to be mad,” Frank mumbled.

“I’m tired too, Baby. We’ve had a…an exciting day,” Gerard said, reaching over to pet Zoe’s head.

“I-I just… I want to, you know… I want to try them, but…I don’t know. I’m stupid.”

“You’re not _stupid,_ you’re nervous. It’s okay. I’ve told you—if you want to use them, that’s awesome. If you _don’t?_ That’s fine. I really don’t mind. I just want you to feel safe and happy.”

Frank stared at him and then looked over at the black plastic bag.

“Maybe…maybe tomorrow? Since…since yesterday was Christmas and all? I don’t know… I’m sorry, I… I’m sorry I said that I wanted to earlier —I didn’t meant to get your hopes up and change my mind.”

“It’s okay,” Gerard insisted, kissing Frank’s cheek and then stepping away from the bed to shut off the light. As soon as he got into the bed, Zoe jumped down on the floor, giving more room for Gerard to snuggle into Frank’s side, resting his head on the boy’s chest for a change. Frank was quick to rest his chin against the top of Gerard’s head the way Gerard always did with him, not seeming to mind the shift in who appeared more dominant. As long as Frank could still be close and cling, he was happy.


	51. Chapter 51

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FranklyMrShankly, you know this one's for you, bby.

_Chapter 51_

Frank fidgeted nervously as he stared at Donna. She was cleaning up the dishes after lunch, and Gerard had just left for work. Don had long since left for work, and Mikey told Frank to come upstairs with him if he wanted to start learning to play guitar. Frank told him he’d be up in a minute, but he wanted to talk to Donna first.

However, that was easier said than done because she appeared to be ignoring him and he didn’t know how to cope with that. He wanted to talk to her about Gerard, but if she was mad at him, he didn’t want smacked for it. She had to know he was standing behind her, but she didn’t look over her shoulder or say a word. It made him so uncomfortable, but he was too afraid to demand her attention.

“Frank, I know you want something. Just tell me what it is,” Donna said after nearly five minutes of Frank standing silently behind her.

“I…I just want to talk,” Frank whispered, knowing she probably had trouble hearing him over the rush of the sink.

“We don’t need to talk about it, Frank,” Donna said, already seeming to understand. 

“I-I just don’t want you mad at me,” Frank said, biting his lip and wishing she’d look at him.

“I’m not mad at you. Why don’t you go upstairs and let Mikey teach you guitar? We don’t need to talk about it.”

Frank felt like he might start to cry, hurt by how dismissive she was acting. He preferred getting struck or yelled at over being ignored. It hurt him so badly to know that he’d become so much of an irritation that the only way Donna could cope with him was to ignore his presence—send him away. 

“I-I’m… I’m sorry, Mom,” Frank said before quickly turning away and hurrying upstairs. He wished he could just go down to his room, not really feeling up to being sociable, but Donna told him to go play guitar with Mikey. Without Gerard home, all Frank could focus on was the shame and guilt that came from their relationship. He wasn’t happy when Gerard wasn’t with him, reminding him with his presence that what they had was okay—it was more than just sin, it was love too. But when Gerard was gone, Frank knew he was nothing more than a sodomite—a sinner. He was going to ruin his new family the same way he’d ruined his real one. By the time he got done, there would be no one left to love him. 

It was just like after what happened with Kyle and that stupid video. He’d made a mistake and Mikey quit looking at him the same way. Now it wasn’t Mikey he’d lost, it was Donna… He wasn’t ready for that. He didn’t want live without her love. She was supposed to be his new mom. She was supposed to love him unconditionally because his real mother couldn’t. Only now she’d never love him… He’d ruined it. 

He’d _ruined_ it. 

“Hey, you alright?” Mikey asked when Frank finally shuffled into the room. 

Zoe was lying on the foot of Mikey’s bed and picked her head up when she saw Frank. At least Zoe still loved him.

“I’m okay,” Frank mumbled.

“You sure?” Mikey asked, looking him up and down from where he was sat on his bed, his acoustic guitar in his lap and his new bass laid down on the bed beside him.

“Yeah,” Frank whispered, going over to the bed so he could pet Zoe and lean down to kiss her on the nose. She sat up and licked his cheek, then started smacking at his shoulder with her paw the way she always did when he was sad. 

“Frank, you’re not… What happened? You were only downstairs ten minutes.”

“It’s nothing,” Frank said, scratching Zoe’s ear while she licked at the fingers of his left hand. 

“Okay… Do you want to sit down? I can show you how to play a few chords.”

“I don’t know… I don’t know how good I’d be with my hand in a cast.”

“You don’t have to be good, you just have to learn where to put your fingers right now,” Mikey said before patting the bed beside him. “Come on.” 

With a heavy sigh, Frank kissed the top of Zoe’s head and then came to sit where Mikey instructed. Within seconds, his friend pushed the guitar into his lap and started telling him how to hold it. 

He tried warning Mikey that this was all just a waste of his time—he wasn’t smart enough to learn to play an instrument—but Mikey just ignored him and kept pointing at the different strings and telling him which note they were. Then he started bending Frank’s fingers around the neck of the guitar, showing him how to hold it and press on the strings. 

“Mikey, I’m really not going to be good at this,” Frank mumbled. “Donna… Donna should take the guitar back. I’m not smart enough…”

“You’re not a dumbass. Come on—stop whining. Everyone starts somewhere.” Mikey kept trying to show him how to strum the guitar right, but Frank knew he kept fucking it up. His hands were starting to shake from the tension and he was waiting for Mikey to lose his patience and hit him—finally realizing he _wasn’t_ smart enough to learn and lash out at him for being such a waste of time. “You need to stop freaking out.”

“I can’t help it! I suck at this—I’m not going to be able to figure it out.”

“You don’t suck! You’re doing _fine._ ”

“I suck… Mikey—”

“Shut up,” Mikey said, rolling his eyes. “I’m trying to teach you so you _don’t_ suck. Okay?”

“But it’s a waste of time—I’m not _smart_ enough.” Frank wanted more than anything to push the guitar away from him, but he was terrified it would fall on the floor and break. He didn’t want to make Mikey hate him as well as Donna. “I just don’t want you to waste your time.”

“I’m not wasting my time—the only thing wasting my time is you bitching at me. You’re being really annoying and you need to quit. Let me teach you.”

Frank bowed his head and stopped arguing, allowing Mikey to direct him without much thought. After an hour, Mikey had him trained to play the first few notes of some rock song Frank faintly recognized. It was hard with his left hand in the cast and his wrist was starting to cramp horribly by the time Mikey finally took the guitar back and started playing it himself. 

“So, are you gonna tell me what you’re upset about?” Mikey asked, looking down at his guitar strings instead of Frank.

Frank sighed and scooted closer to Zoe, petting her and rubbing her belly when she rolled onto her back.

“Spit it out,” Mikey said.

“Donna knows about Gerard and me…”

“Oh, shit,” Mikey said, making Frank feel even worse when he stopped strumming his guitar. “What happened?—Did she walk in on you guys or something?”

“No… On Christmas when we got drunk…she saw us in the hallway and—”

“Yeah, you kept kissing him on the couch. I guess it’s kind of obvious she found out… What did she say?”

Frank shrugged. “She’s not…mad about it, but she doesn’t like me now.”

“Why do you think she doesn’t like you?” Mikey asked, huffing a little.

“I tried to talk to her, but she just…ignored me.”

“Well, yeah—she doesn’t want to hear about you two going at it. She’s our mom. She doesn’t want to know that shit.” 

Frank didn’t say anything and continued petting Zoe’s belly as she stretched out her back legs. Life was so simple for her… He was jealous. 

“She doesn’t _hate_ you, Frank. You need to stop overreacting about everything.”

Yeah, that was easy for him to say. He could pretty much do whatever and say whatever he wanted without anyone ever hitting him or terrorizing him. Donna was a good mother, not like his mom. Mikey didn’t know what it was like to have one mistake ruin weeks and weeks of progress. He would _finally_ earn a hug from his mother only to break a dish or say the wrong thing and lose it. She would go back to acting like he didn’t exist—no food, no attention, no _acknowledgement._ He could’ve smacked into his mother in the hallway and have her move around him as though she hadn’t felt a thing—because she knew how bad it hurt him. 

Mikey never had to experience anything like that. He had both his parents and he had Gerard too. Everybody loved Mikey—they loved him for free. He didn’t even have to earn it. He belonged in this house, Frank didn’t. Frank had to win his affection… If Donna stopped liking him, there would be no reason for her to change her mind. 

Frank didn’t want her to hate him.

“I’m serious,” Mikey said when Frank didn’t answer him. “Mom loves you. She’s probably just grossed out thinking about Gerard getting laid.”

“Yeah, but it’s my fault.”

“It’s _Gerard’s,_ fault. He didn’t need to get you wasted on Christmas.”

“I shouldn’t have drank so much—”

“You do whatever he tells you—you do whatever _anybody_ tells you. He knows that and he got you drunk on purpose. It’s his fault.”

“I don’t do _whatever_ anybody tells me,” Frank muttered.

“You do whatever Gerard tells you,” Mikey said matter-of-factly. 

“He’s my…my boyfriend. It’s what you’re supposed to do,” Frank said. It felt weird calling Gerard his boyfriend out loud to someone other than Jamia. 

“You’re not supposed to do everything someone tells you just because you’re dating.”

“I know! I just mean…I trust Gerard and if he thinks I can have that many drinks, I…I probably can.”

“You do whatever he says,” Mikey said bluntly. 

“No I don’t! I tell him no all the time!”

Mikey started grinning and Frank rolled his eyes. This whole conversation made him uncomfortable, but he didn’t want his friend to think he was so brainless and desperate that he let Gerard manipulate him that easily. 

“You know what’s funny?” Mikey said, looking down at his guitar—still smirking.

“What?” Frank asked, knowing already that it wouldn’t be funny at all.

“Maybe I shouldn’t say it.”

“Just say it! What?”

“On your birthday, when you and Gerard were texting each other, I knew _right away,_ he was into you and you liked him.”

“What?” Frank asked, trying to fight the blush that was creeping into his cheeks.

“You kept _blushing_ and giggling at him like a little girl. It was funny. I’m surprised Mom didn’t catch on sooner.”

“He didn’t even…like me back then,” Frank mumbled. Gerard didn’t really like him until Thanksgiving, the night he got drunk and coaxed Frank into his bed. 

“Yeah he did. Gerard doesn’t like to talk to anyone—ever. Then you moved in and he was all over you. And he kept buying you shit for no reason… When he bought you _Zoe,_ oh my god. I knew it was on.”

“He got Zoe for me because…because I was sad,” Frank murmured.

“Yeah, but he didn’t have to. I’ve never seen him act that way about anybody. It was kind of funny.”

“Why is that funny?” Frank asked, feeling a little angry that Mikey was making fun of Gerard for being kind. 

“Because Gerard can usually get whoever he wants and he knows it. With you he was nervous for once and it cracked me up.”

“But I liked him too… It was obvious,” Frank said, staring down at the bed spread. 

“Oh I know—don’t doubt that. It was funny.”

“I thought you’d be mad…or Donna would throw me out if I ever…if you guys ever found out,” Frank mumbled.

“It’s not anything to get pissed off about. I mean, if you guys ever fuck in my bed, I’ll _never_ forgive you. But other than that, no one cares. Mom’s not mad at you—she’s grossed out because of Gerard.”

“I wish she’d just talk to me about it… I don’t want her to think anything bad about me.”

“What do you want to say to her so bad? I think she knows everything she needs to know.”

“I-I just… I don’t know. I feel bad about it.”

“If you want to talk to her, just do it,” Mikey said, shaking his head and going back to strumming his guitar. Frank watched him a minute, then got off the bed and crept back downstairs.

( ) ( ) ( )

Donna sighed heavily when Frank came to sit next to her on the couch. She’d managed to put it off for a while, but now the inevitable was about to happen. Frank was going to talk to her about Gerard—beg her not to be mad when she _wasn’t_ mad, then refuse to believe her when she told him that. 

“Mom?”

“Mhm?” Donna hummed, staring at the television screen, trying to focus on her soap opera. 

“Can…can we please talk about this? I don’t want you mad at me.”

“Frank, I’m not mad at you,” Donna said, turning to look at him. She hoped she sounded genuine, but for the most part her tone was strained. The boy did not look convinced and Donna was afraid he would start crying if she didn’t think of something else to say.

But what else was there? She wasn’t _angry_ with him for sleeping with her son, she was worried about it. She didn’t want Frank hurt, and she didn’t want _Gerard_ hurt. She really wished Gerard had kept his hands off the boy, but Frank seemed to have as much trouble keeping his hands off Gerard on his own. When he’d been drunk of Christmas night, he’d barely left Gerard’s side. He kept _kissing_ him right in front of everyone.

“What do you want to talk about?” She asked after Frank kept sadly staring at her.

“M-me and Gerard,” he whispered, as if she didn’t already know it. 

“Okay. What do you want to say?” Donna asked, not sure of any way she could make the situation less awkward or Frank more comfortable.

“Just… I just… I really like Gerard lot. I-It’s not… I mean…” Frank was having trouble keeping his breathing even and Donna was nervous he would start to hyperventilate before he said what he wanted to say. “I-I’ve never really date anyone before, b-but I like him—love him. I-I love him. A lot.”

“I know you do, Frank.” She thought it would be the right thing to say—reassure him that she knew his feelings were genuine—but he still looked sad. “When… When did you two start…dating, I guess.” Dating wasn’t really the right word since Gerard never really took Frank out on dates, but she didn’t want to ask when they started sleeping together. Deep down she wanted to believe that Gerard _hadn’t_ slept with him yet, but she knew her son and she knew what she’d seen in the hallway. If Frank was letting Gerard give him hickeys, they were more likely than not physical lovers—not just innocently kissing and cuddling at night. 

“Thanksgiving,” Frank whispered, ducking his head as his cheeks started to burn red. 

“Gerard was completely wasted that night,” Donna said. Gerard was drunk every holiday that brought people over to their house. 

“Yeah,” Frank whispered. 

She didn’t know what else to ask beside that question. She didn’t really want a follow-up either. They got together on Thanksgiving? The night Gerard was wasted? Gerard, drunk out of his mind, coaxed the boy into having sex with him and that made Donna angry. 

“Has he hurt you?” Donna asked, reaching over and rubbing Frank’s shoulder when she saw the amount of shame on his face steadily increasing. Her silence and indifference was hurting him and though she didn’t understand, she could empathize. Frank wanted to discuss it for whatever reason he had and if she ignored him, he was sensitive and it hurt him. 

“No—never. He’s really nice to me. He…he’s always really nice.”

“He doesn’t ever…make you do things you don’t like?” She asked, deciding that covering all the bases was the best way to get information without hearing too much detail. It would put Frank at ease if she showed interest and paid attention to him, and making sure Gerard was treating him properly was all she could do.

“No—never. Not…not really, I mean. Well… Not anymore,” Frank said, biting his lip.

“Not anymore?” Donna asked. Something in her gut tightened and she straightened up a little in her seat. She didn’t want to show the anger toward Gerard that she suddenly felt—fearing Frank would think it was directed at him—but the idea made her anxious. Not anymore? Gerard didn’t make him do things he didn’t like _anymore?_

Frank looked at her reluctantly, hesitating to give any details, but then bowed his head again.

“He… He knows more stuff than I do,” Frank mumbled.

Donna cringed, but he didn’t see it. She did _not_ want to have that conversation—she did _not_ want to know what things Gerard knew how to do. 

“He doesn’t hurt me though. He just…gets impatient, I guess.”

“Well, don’t let my son pressure you into anything. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. That’s not how relationships are meant to work. If you’re not comfortable, you tell him no. If he doesn’t listen, that’s a problem and you need to…to tell me and I’ll put him in his place.”

Frank didn’t say anything in response to that and Donna hoped it meant the conversation was over. But he was still staring at her so she knew she hadn’t gotten away that easily.

“Do you not want me to be with him? I’ll…I’ll stop if you tell me to. I don’t want you mad.”

“I don’t want you to break up with Gerard,” Donna said, looking at Frank and smiling as genuinely as she could. “You’re…you’re good for him, Frank. You…you’re a good kid. Just don’t let him push you, okay? I want you to be happy here and…and _safe._ If you and Gerard find you…you don’t work out, that’s okay. I’ll still love you. Okay? You’re my son, too.” She flashed him another smile and this time Frank reciprocated, though it seemed a bit forced. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard sat sketching at his desk, his headphones on and turned up loud. He’d gotten into an altercation with a woman trying to steal ibuprofen and it had gotten nastier than he would’ve liked. She ran off before the cops could come and it made him angry that she’d gotten away with it. Not to mention he’d gotten a flat tire after trying to leave the Spend N Save’s shitty parking lot.

He had to drive on the flat to the local gas station and fill it up, but it was almost flat again by the time he got home. That meant he needed a new tire and he didn’t have the money for that after spending so much for Christmas—and on toys Frank wouldn’t touch. 

He knew it was a waste of money to buy those things, but he’d hoped Frank would be willing to try them out—get used to the idea of having bigger things in his body—but they scared him. Gerard had offered a couple times, and Frank always said no. He said no to trying them out on his own first, said no to watching Gerard use them so he could see they didn’t hurt…he hated the idea, it seemed and it made Gerard feel dumb. 

Of course conservative, uptight, sin-obsessed Frankie wouldn’t want to use toys. Gerard was surprised Frank even got in Gerard’s bed anymore. 

Gerard turned his music up a few notches louder and dragged his pencil angrily across the page, glaring down at it. He wasn’t mad at Frank for being shy—but he was getting irritated. It was his own fault he was in this situation—he knew Frank was modest and messed up going in—but he was still frustrated. He wanted things to go further and he wanted Frank to want that too.

All of a sudden, he felt something sliding across his shoulder and then arms were wrapped around him. It took a lot of self-control not to snap at Frank who only wanted affection. Gerard made himself switch off his music and lower his headphones around his neck.

“What, Baby?” He asked, twitching a little when Frank kiss his cheek. Frank had just gotten out of the shower and strands of his wet hair were cold as they stuck to Gerard’s neck. 

“I missed you… I know you don’t like bothered when you draw, but—”

“I know. It’s okay, Baby.” Gerard reached back to grab the back of Frank head and turned to kiss him on the mouth. “You smell good.”

“I had to use Mom’s body wash,” Frank admitted, giggling a little.

That tiny laugh was enough to make Gerard’s anger at being interrupted dissipate a little. Frank was just lonely and wanting to make sure Gerard wasn’t angry at _him_ before he went to bed. 

“Well, it smells nice,” Gerard said, setting his sketchpad and pencil aside so he could turn to focus more on Frank. 

The way Frank’s eyes lit up when he did made Gerard smile. He’d had lot of boyfriends in the past and none of them got excited just to look at him and have his attention like Frank did. It was enough to make Gerard forget to be pissed off at being interrupted. 

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Gerard asked when Frank just kept looking at him and smiling—blushing.

He knew exactly what it meant when Frank came to him blushing. He didn’t even have to look down at the slightly tented front of Frank’s pajama bottoms to be able to tell. 

“I love you,” Frank said before biting his lip, trying to hold back a grin. 

“I love you, too,” Gerard said, standing up and kissing Frank on the mouth, nudging the boy’s lips apart with his tongue. Frank immediately pressed his hips against Gerard’s thigh and moaned softly, licking at Gerard’s tongue and letting out quiet little noises. 

Gerard cupped Frank’s cheek with one hand and let the other slide down to rest on the small of his back, pushing him closer. 

“Gerard?” Frank asked, lowering his head to Gerard’s neck and nuzzling it while gently, subtly rubbing himself against Gerard’s thigh. 

“Hm, Baby?” Gerard asked, putting both his hands on Frank’s hips and caressing them gently, letting his thumbs glide along the hem of his pajama pants. 

“C-Can… Can we try the…the green one tonight?”

For a moment Gerard was speechless, excited but worried too. Frank wanted to use one of the toys and actually seemed happy about it. He’d give up hope that it would ever happen, but Frank looked so eager. 

“You really want to?” Gerard asked, kissing him again and smiling. 

“Yeah,” Frank said, blushing a little harder. “I-I want you to feel better, ‘cause I know you…you got the flat tire and you’re mad.”

“I’m not mad,” Gerard said, leaning down to kiss Frank’s neck. The boy gasped and then shivered, leaning into the touch and wrapping his arms tightly around Gerard’s waist. “You want to try the vibrator, huh?” He asked, just wanting to hear Frank say it out loud. Of course, all Frank did was giggle and nod. “Then go lay down and I’ll get it for you.”

He hadn’t expected Frank to move so quickly, but as soon as he spoke the request, Frank bounced over to Gerard’s bed instead of his own and laid down on his back, knees up and already spread. 

Gerard could hardly take his eyes off the boy long enough to dig through the bag buried in his bottom desk drawer to find the right toy. He’d worked so hard to get to this point—to have Frank trust him enough to share his body, to have shy, conservative Frank sprawl out on the bed for him. He knew he had to be careful though. One wrong move and he could still ruin everything. If he moved too fast, it would scare Frank and all of this could go away in an instant.

So Gerard moved slowly when he came back to the bed and made sure to hand the toy to Frank first so the boy could look it over—get used to it—before even placing a hand on the inside of his thigh. 

“It doesn’t hurt, right?” Frank said, turning the long, neon green vibe over in his hand. He looked anxious, and kept waving his knees back and forth with nervous energy. 

“No, it doesn’t hurt.” Gerard reached over and twisted the bottom of the toy so it would turn onto its lowest setting. Frank started blushing and stared at it, moving it between his hands. “See? That’s all it does.”

“But it…feels good?” Frank asked, looking confused because it gave his hands no pleasure at all. 

“Mhm—Can I show you?” Gerard asked, moving to lie at Frank’s side and kissing him on the cheek. 

“Okay,” Frank said, handing the vibe over to Gerard.

Gerard kissed him on the mouth, then lowered his hand to Frank’s chest, stroking one of his nipples until it was hard and then slowly lowered the tip of the vibrator toward it. Frank gasped as soon it touched him and flinched away.

“Is that bad?” Gerard asked, smiling at him because he knew Frank had liked it.

“N-No,” Frank stammered, staring at the toy and then looking at Gerard with wide eyes. He started chewing his lip and then watched as Gerard lowered the vibe again and slowly circled it around his nipple. Frank’s breaths immediately became shaky and he fisted one of his hands in the blanket beneath him. 

Gerard leaned over and started kissing his neck, sucking his pulse and then nipping it. He loved the way Frank’s hips bucked at the sharp twinge of pain. He moved to sit up a little and slid Frank’s shirt up his chest to expose the nipple he wasn’t teasing with the head of the vibe, then leaned down and began suckling it.

Frank jerked his hips upwards again and started whimpering, laying his head back against Gerard’s pillow and moaning. 

Gerard didn’t tease him for long. He asked permission, then slowly started pulling Frank’s pajama pants down his legs. He glanced up in time to see shame show in Frank’s eyes as soon as he was exposed. Gerard wished there would come a time that Frank would be able to look at himself and see something other than scars and imperfections. 

“You’re so perfect,” Gerard said, leaning up and kissing Frank’s cheek. The boy quickly turned his face to try to get a kiss on the mouth, and Gerard couldn’t be happier to comply, adding tongue as he turned the vibe off with his thumb and set it aside for the moment. 

As soon as the buzzing stopped, Frank turned away from the kiss. Gerard could tell by his eyes that Frank thought he’d done something wrong.

“Just want to kiss you for a minute,” Gerard said, smiling as he pressed a kiss onto the corner of Frank’s mouth. He slid his hand down Frank’s thigh and then slowly wrapped it around the younger boy’s length, Frank sighed and relaxed a little, soothed when he knew the touching wasn’t going to stop. 

Gerard kissed him on the lips, easily getting Frank to open his mouth and slide his tongue inside. Frank moaned and brought up a cautious hand to grasp Gerard’s head, holding him close and keeping him still. 

When Frank started bucking his hips again, Gerard pulled back and picked up the vibe. As soon as it was switched back on, Frank started biting his lip nervously. He still seemed worried that it would hurt him and Gerard felt a little sorry for him—but just a little. Mostly, he just found it cute.

Frank hesitated a little when Gerard asked him to open his legs a little more, and took in a shaking breath as he complied. He watched the hand in which Gerard held the vibe anxiously and flinched the first couple of times that his boyfriend lowered it toward him. 

Gerard wished there was something he could say that would calm him, but he had to let the toy speak for itself. He kept it on its lowest setting as he placed it between Frank’s legs, making Frank spread his thighs even more before touching the head of the toy against his hole. 

Frank gasped a little, but didn’t pull away. Gerard didn’t add much pressure at first, and just circled his opening until Frank got used to it being there and started to relax. After releasing a couple shaky breaths, Frank started to moan a little and turned his eyes toward Gerard, searching him. 

Gerard slid his thumb over the dial on the vibe and turned it up a little higher, then pressed it against him more firmly. Frank gasped again, his hips immediately squirming as if he were trying to get away. Gerard would’ve pulled away if not for the noises Frank started letting out. They were needy and desperate as Gerard began to slide the vibrator up and down, occasionally gliding it over his hole but mostly focusing on the area above it, just beneath his balls. 

“Do you like that?” Gerard asked, pressing a little harder.

Frank let out a shrill cry and returned to chewing on his bottom lip. His thighs were shaking and he didn’t seem to know what to do with himself until Gerard leaned over and kissed him. Immediately, Frank started kissing back so forcefully their teeth clicked together. It wasn’t enough to get Frank to stop, though, and he was quick to add tongue and he kept moaning into Gerard’s mouth. 

Gerard wished he could push the vibrator inside and really get Frank to come undone, but he hadn’t brought the lube over to the bed with him and couldn’t imagine stepping away from Frank for a second to retrieve it. For now, he would settle for this—driving Frank mad by stimulating his prostate from the outside.

It wouldn’t be enough though. Frank was rolling his hips, trying to get friction and unwilling to stroke himself in the presence of another person. Gerard was sorry to break off the kiss, especially when Frank whimpered at the loss—almost appearing more desperate to have kisses than anything else—but knew he could give the boy something better. 

Keeping the vibe in place, Gerard slid down Frank’s body and settled between his legs. He passed Frank a quick smirk before sticking out his tongue and dragging it over the tip of the boy’s cock where it rested against his belly. Frank’s little noises became a bit louder as Gerard mouthed his way down his member, then liked a stripe back up to the tip. 

“G-Gerard?” Frank stammered, rocking his hips back and forth as if not sure where he wanted more pressure—from Gerard’s mouth or the steadily buzzing vibrator rubbing at his taint. 

“Hm, Baby?” Gerard asked before pulling the head of Frank’s cock into his mouth and rubbing the tip of his tongue against the leaking slit. 

“C-Can—Can it g-go inside?” Frank stammered, his whole body starting to shake as Gerard took more and more of his length into his mouth. He bobbed his head up and down a few times while thinking of a response. He wasn’t about to get up and search for lube, but spit could work as long as he had enough and didn’t try to put the toy too far inside. 

Slowly, Gerard pulled off Frank’s length and took the vibe away from him as well, turning it off before bringing it to his mouth. Frank was still trembling, even after the contact stopped, and he watched Gerard’s every move with large, dark eyes. Gerard put no more than two inches of the toy into his mouth and coated it as best he could in spit. The toy was small and very narrow and if he moved slowly, he wouldn’t need to worry about prepping beforehand. 

As soon as he lowered the toy to Frank’s opening, though, the boy stiffened. 

“You have to relax,” Gerard whispered, moving to lie over top Frank’s body and kissing him gently on the lips. He pressed the head of the toy a little more firmly against Frank’s hole, and slowly it slipped inside. Frank gasped, his eyes going wide as Gerard worked the toy inside and then switched it back on. 

Immediately, he thrust his hips upwards against Gerard’s thigh, rubbing against him and starting to moan again, shamelessly. If anyone was upstairs, they would’ve had to have heard and Gerard prayed his parents and Mikey had all gone to bed. Gerard moved the toy back and forth a little bit, changing the angle until he got Frank to let out a shrill little scream as he struck his prostate. He slid his thumb over the dial and turned it up almost as high as it would go and smiled as he kissed his boyfriend’s cheek. 

Frank was trying to form words, but all he could do was stammer out bits of praise and swear words as Gerard rocked the head of the vibe against his sweet spot. After a moment, Gerard was able to coax Frank into another heated kiss while the boy rutted up against his thigh. The whole time they kissed, Gerard could feel Frank’s body trembling under him, shaking from the pleasure—pleasure only Gerard had ever given him. 

After a few more moments, Frank’s body tensed up—his needy moans choked off—as he came against Gerard’s thigh. Gerard kept kissing him and continued to keep the vibrator pressed against Frank’s prostate, until the boy started trembling again and his breaths became equally shaky, and shrill from the overstimulation. He wanted to see if could get Frank to sob again the way he had before, but when started pushing on his shoulders, trying to get him away, Gerard stopped and pulled back, switching off the toy with a flick of his thumb and then carefully easing it out. 

Frank let out a heavy sigh as soon as the toy was gone and then reached up, his left hand clutching at the front of Gerard’s shirt and tugging it until Gerard, having set the toy aside on the bed, laid down over top of him. 

“Are you okay?” Gerard asked, kissing the corner of Frank’s mouth as the boy gasped for air—still trembling. “Frankie?”

“Y-yeah,” Frank stammered, quickly wrapping his arms around Gerard’s shoulders and squeezing tight.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No,” Frank said, rubbing his face all over Gerard’s neck and chest—too desperate to be simple, affectionate nuzzling.

“Can we roll over? I don’t want to crush you,” Gerard said, trying to avoid putting too much weight on his boyfriend’s small, half-naked body. 

“No,” Frank muttered, holding Gerard even tighter as he trembled through the aftershocks. Frank’s legs had closed around him as well and Gerard smiled down at the boy, enjoying the feeling of being wanted—needed. 

“We should really roll over,” Gerard said, smiling when Frank told him no a third time. He had to wait until Frank had stopped shaking, and only then was he able to roll onto his side and pull Frank to his chest. Though he would’ve loved to unzip his jeans and put his length into Frank’s hand, he didn’t want to end the moment they were having now. Frank was snuggled up against him and kept kissing and nuzzling his neck and chest, his breathing slowing down as he started to relax. 

“I love you,” Frank whispered, still pressed as close to Gerard as he could possibly get.

“I love you too, Baby,” Gerard said, kissing the top of his head squeezing him tight. 

As if forgetting the exchange, Frank repeated it again—and then a third time, repeatedly telling Gerard he loved him and sighing happily every time Gerard said it back to him. 

“You’re so perfect, Frankie,” Gerard said, giving up on the idea that he might be able to squirm away and change into pajamas—or turn off the light. Instead, he settled for stroking and playing with the long strands of Frank’s hair 

“You think so?” Frank asked, sounding distant and sleepy.

“I know it,” Gerard said, kissing the top of Frank’s head while still combing through the long locks with his fingers. 

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Gerard said, smiling and snuggling him tighter. 

“Really?” Frank asked again.

He wanted examples it seemed, and Gerard was more than happy to start listing them.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank kept waking up all through the night. The first time it was because Gerard left him, and he was gone a long time before coming back to the room and returning to the bed with Zoe at his side. Frank got to go back to sleep with his head on Gerard’s shoulder and his boyfriend’s arms all around him. He felt so warm and so safe there—especially with his dog at his feet as well. He fell asleep again, and then woke up to the noise of Gerard’s snoring. It was starting to get light out, but only a little beam of light made it into the room. 

The light was enough that Frank could see the features of Gerard’s face, so he lie there and stared, smiling as he watched Gerard sleep. 

Frank dozed off again, but woke up soon after when Zoe jumped down to sleep on the floor. More time for Frank to look at his boyfriend and be reminded of how lucky and fortunate he was. 

For so long he’d believed no one would ever love him—because his mother told him he was stupid and ugly and worthless…told him he would never be good enough to be loved or wanted. But she’d been wrong. Gerard loved him. Gerard loved him so much and Frank couldn’t help but let the feeling overwhelm him. Every feeling Gerard had toward him, Frank returned ten-fold. 

He adored Gerard…worshiped him even. Anything Gerard would ever want, Frank would do his best to give it to him. Anything. 

No one made him feel the way Gerard did. No one ever had made him feel cherished or appreciated the way Gerard did—no one ever told him how attractive he was (in sinful ways and pure ones), no one ever called him irresistible before, no one told him he had a nice voice or pretty eyes. No one loved him like Gerard and no one else ever would.

The thought made Frank feel so happy.

He had his soulmate—a person he never thought existed. Someone to love him and care for him, allow him to sin and make him feel good about it…feel normal and not so guilty. 

Soulmate, Frank thought, over and over as he tried not to fall back asleep.

Soulmate, soulmate…

Gerard loved him.

They’d be together forever, Frank just _knew it._


	52. Chapter 52

_Chapter 52_

Gerard was starting to regret buying Frank the laptop since now all his boyfriend seemed interested in doing was playing around on it—talking to Jamia and Mikey through social media even though Mikey was in the same room as him. Gerard kept trying to get the boy’s focus off the screen, but it would only work for a minute or two at a time—long enough to get a kiss or a giggle out of Frank, but little more than that.

He’d never been allowed online before, except for projects at school, and now he was excited to explore every corner of the web he could find. Gerard was prepared to start paying for virus removal as soon as the kid wandered somewhere he wasn’t supposed to. He warned him, but he doubted Frank would take him seriously until he did get a virus and lock up his whole laptop… He’d probably cry over it, thinking he ruined it for good.

“You’re going to lose your eyesight if you don’t take a break from that thing,” Gerard said, leaning over the back of the couch to wrap his arms around Frank’s shoulders. Both of his parents were in the room, but he didn’t care. If he didn’t show affection toward Frank—even if the boy was distracted with his new gadgets—he would start to feel neglected.

Gerard couldn’t allow that to happen—not now that his precious little boyfriend was just starting to be a little more adventurous.

“No I’m not,” Frank said, giggling, closing the window he had open as if Gerard hadn’t already seen it. 

“Yeah you are,” Gerard said, kissing the top of Frank’s head. 

“No,” Frank said, turning to get a kiss.

“You boys need to quit,” Don said, his voice low but stern. The smile immediately left Frank’s face and he stopped responding to all of Gerard’s touches in an instant. The first time he’d scolded them for being too open with their PDA, Frank had hid in their room the rest of the night, now he listened and it hurt him, but his reactions weren’t so dramatic. He obeyed—getting reprimanded scared him—but he was getting used to it. He liked Gerard’s attention and kisses more than he liked pleasing Don. 

“Gonna lose your eyesight,” Gerard whispered into Frank’s ear, letting his lips brush against the boy’s skin.

Frank worked his jaw, but didn’t say anything, too nervous about his foster father’s opinion to respond to the touches. That was fine—he would have time to reciprocate later. Their parents were going out to celebrate New Year’s with their aunt in the city and wouldn’t be home until the next night. Once they were gone, Gerard had every intention to take his little boyfriend downstairs and try one of their new toys—he’d gotten Frank fond of the vibrator and they’d gotten to use the smallest of the plugs, but there were so many other fun ones to try. Today, Gerard was thinking they might try the beads. 

Frank was afraid of them, intimidated by the larger ones toward the end of the string, and he wanted to prove to the boy that they could fit very easily if he’d just relax. 

And Frank could _definitely_ relax if their parents weren’t home. 

The only other factor was Mikey, but Gerard was sure that with a few little kisses and licks, Frank would forget he was home as well. 

“You should come downstairs with me,” Gerard whispered.

“I-I…I’m fine here,” Frank mumbled.

“You sure? We’ve got wifi in the basement too, you know.”

“I know,” Frank mumbled, glancing at Don and then looking over at Gerard. “I want to spend time with Mom before she leaves.”

“Okay,” Gerard said, kissing Frank’s temple against before pulling away from the couch. Frank turned around to watch as Gerard walked back into the kitchen. He missed the way Frank had acted the days immediately after they used the vibe for the first time.

Frank hardly let go of him long enough for Gerard to go to the bathroom, and when he went to work, Frank no longer just texted—he called too. Repeatedly. Just to “check in.” He didn’t like being alone without Gerard. Gerard seemed to be the only thing Frank thought about—dreamed about.

They’d been inseparable. Now Frank was going back to normal and Gerard didn’t like it. He wanted that neediness. He fed on it. Maybe it was a little unhealthy, but after being so long on his own, he wanted that level of dependency Frank had on him. He wanted Frank clinging and kissing and desperate for cuddling. He wanted to be afraid to turn around too fast in fear Frank might be inches behind him and he might knock him over.

Frank would have to go back to school after the holidays and Gerard was going to miss him. He liked having Frank with him all the time. He wanted to make the most of this while he could. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank didn’t really know what do with himself after he hugged Donna goodbye. He wished she wasn’t going out, but when she’d offered to take him along he’d refused. Don didn’t look happy about the idea and he wanted to spend time with Gerard too—and Gerard definitely wasn’t going to go visit his relatives if he could avoid it.

Mikey suggested they have a movie marathon night, but for some reason Gerard had said no and went down to sit in their room. Frank didn’t know whether to go down and visit with him or if Gerard just wanted space. He would feel kind of bad if he left Mikey upstairs all alone, but Mikey appeared to be content playing a game on his laptop.

So, after Don’s car pulled out of the driveway, Frank took one last glance at Mikey then went down to his bedroom. Gerard was in bed sketching with _Nightmare before Christmas_ playing on his little television. 

“Hey,” Frank said, crawling into Gerard’s bed and cuddling up beside him, resting his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder. Gerard was sketching some kind of super hero, but looked away in order to kiss Frank on the head briefly. 

“Finally decided to come visit me, huh?” Gerard asked, returning to his sketch.

“Mom and Don left,” Frank said, kissing Gerard’s cheek and chin. Sometimes it was dangerous to try to fight for Gerard’s attention when his boyfriend was drawing, but he could tell by Gerard’s little smile that he didn’t mind the distraction.

“You know, you can call him dad.”

“I have a dad,” Frank said, moving to kiss Gerard’s neck. 

“You have a mom,” Gerard said, his tone gentle. 

“I know… But Don doesn’t like me like Donna does.”

“Sure he does,” Gerard said, closing his book and crawling away to set it and his pencil on his desk.

“No he doesn’t,” Frank said, trying to make more attention to Gerard’s body than their conversation. Don didn’t like him much—he saw him as invader in their home and a strain on their finances at the very least. Donna loved him though, and that was enough. He’d never really had a dad and he didn’t care for a new one.

“Sure he does,” Gerard repeated, crawling back over top of Frank and kissing him on the mouth. “So…what do you want to do tonight, hm?”

“I don’t know,” Frank said, scooting down the bed so Gerard could be completely above him. Mikey was upstairs, but Frank knew he wouldn’t be able to hear anything from the living room—and if he did he wouldn’t come to investigate.

“You don’t know?” Gerard said, smiling and kissing Frank gently on the mouth. He laid his hips down on top of Frank’s and started wiggling them a little bit, giving Frank just enough pressure and friction to make him blush. 

“We can…watch movies with Mikey,” Frank suggested, just to hear Gerard say what he had in mind. 

“Yeah, we _could,_ ” Gerard said, leaning down and starting to kiss and suckle Frank’s neck. “Or, maybe, tonight we can play with the beads I bought you.”

“They’re too big,” Frank mumbled, blushing at the mention. He wasn’t completely opposed to the idea, but he didn’t like the stigma that came with agreeing easily. Plus, the last bead was bigger than the other toys and that scared him. It wasn’t going to fit…but Gerard kept saying it out, but Frank just wasn’t sure.

If Gerard thought it would, it probably would, though. It made him nervous. 

“I promise, they’re not too big. You’re gonna like them.”

“I don’t know,” Frank said, biting his lip as Gerard started leaving a hickey on the underside of his jaw.

“We don’t have to put all of them inside—just a couple. See if you like it.” Gerard came up for a kiss and traced Frank’s bottom lip with his tongue. Frank opened his mouth and moaned softly as Gerard’s tongue slipped inside. He was getting a little better at kissing and had even learned to swirl his tongue around Gerard’s in a way that got the older man to moan. 

Gerard slid his hand up Frank’s side, running his fingertips over the curve of Frank’s hip and over is abdomen. Frank’s muscles tensed at the gentle contact, the caresses tickling him.

“Stop,” Frank whispered, squirming a little as Gerard kept stroking his abdomen—tickling him on purpose.

“Why?” Gerard asked, smirking and doing it more until Frank started jerking and trying to get away. 

“It tickles! Quit!” Frank squealed, trying to get out from under his boyfriend but unable with Gerard putting his weight on his hips. 

“Tickles? No…” Gerard drawled, leaning down to lick at Frank’s neck.

Frank giggled and tried squirming away, but Gerard wouldn’t let him up.

“Stop! Stop! Please!”

“Oh, _please?_ ” Gerard asked, running his hand up and away from Frank’s stomach only to brush his fingers over Frank’s left nipple. 

Frank’s laughter immediately turned into a little moan and his cheeks grew hotter. 

“You sure you don’t want to play with the beads?” Gerard asked.

“I-I don’t know,” Frank whimpered, rolling his hips a little to get friction. It was still so early and Mikey was upstairs. Even if he couldn’t hear, it was still uncomfortable. 

“Aw—it’s okay. If you don’t feel ready, we won’t,” Gerard said, pulling his hand out of Frank’s shirt and kissing him on the mouth gently. 

“W-well…” Frank stared up at him and swallowed hard. He didn’t want to let him down. He’d spent the money on the toys and they may as well use them… Gerard wouldn’t hurt him on purpose or keep going if Frank asked him to stop. “N-not right now, but…maybe tonight after Mikey goes to bed.”

“After _Mikey_ goes to bed? That’ll be at, like, three in the morning!” Gerard said, smiling but looking a little desperate. 

“I don’t want him to hear,” Frank whispered, biting his lip.

“Okay,” Gerard said, smiling still and kissing Frank on the cheek. “In the meantime…what do you wanna do?”

“Um…” Frank looked away, scanning the room as he tried to think of something. He didn’t really want to go upstairs. “I…I want to take a nap.”

“Take a nap?” Gerard asked, giggling and rolling off to Frank’s side. 

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’m not tired, but if you want to sleep here you can. I’ll sketch.”

Frank wished Gerard would sleep, too, liking nothing more than the feeling of being pressed close to him with all of Gerard’s attention wrapped around him, but wasn’t going to complain. He sat up while Gerard retrieved his sketchbook and pencil, then curled up against him and rested his eyes. After a while Gerard started humming, his voice soothing Frank to sleep.

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard woke Frank up from his long nap at ten o’clock, unable to fight his hunger anymore. He was supposed to make dinner for himself and his younger brothers, but Mikey could feed himself and Frank needed his rest. He was about as excited about New Year’s as he had been about Christmas though Gerard didn’t understand why. 

At first he’d thought it was because they were going to get time alone together, but having Donna gone just seemed to make the boy anxious. He texted her a few times after waking up and stared at his phone while Gerard made him some food. She didn’t text back until ten-thirty, but once he’d heard from her, Frank seemed to feel a bit better. 

He ate the poor excuse for stir-fry that Gerard served him without complaint—giggling the whole time he ate as if being served by Gerard was the best thing that ever happened to him—then went to sit with Mikey in the living room.

And got back on his fucking laptop, playing on it while laying down on the floor.

Gerard was going to _steal_ that laptop and hide it. It was making him jealous. Why did Frank want to sit there and play silly little flash animation games instead of play with him? Even when Zoe came over to him, he stroked her a few times then settled back into his games.

“You excited for midnight, Frankie?” Gerard asked, tired of sitting on the couch and being ignored—drinking by himself.

“Yes,” Frank said, finally looking over his shoulder at him.

“What do you usually do on New Year’s?” Mikey asked, glancing at Frank. 

“Sleep,” Frank said, shrugging. “Momma had work friends come over every year, so I just stayed in my room.”

“Didn’t they wonder where you were?” Mikey asked. 

Frank stared at him a moment and then looked at Gerard sheepishly.

“They…they didn’t know Momma had me,” he said, trying to smile but not quite able to manage it. 

Gerard couldn’t handle that look. He didn’t want Frank thinking about his mother right now and he was mad at Mikey for bringing her up. He stood up from the couch and went into the kitchen, opening a bottle of sweet wine and pouring a glass for Frank. 

“Here, Baby,” he said, sitting down on the floor next to Frank and handing him the glass.

“I…I don’t want any,” Frank said.

“Oh, come on! It’s New Year’s. You’re supposed to drink and watch the ball drop,” Mikey said, getting up and going to the fridge. Seconds later he came back with a beer and started drinking it while watching the television. 

“Don’t drink too much, Mikey. Mom’ll kill me if I let you get a hangover tomorrow.”

“Why? She already knows you two are going to be out of it,” Mikey said, tipping his bottle toward Frank who was staring at the wine glass in his hand.

“Yeah, but not you.”

“Are we going to watch the ball drop?” Frank asked, trying to change the subject. “I’ve never seen it before.”

“Really?” Mikey asked, sounding surprised even though he knew more than anyone how restrictive Frank’s mother had been.

“I’ve seen pictures, but that’s all…”

“We can watch it,” Gerard said. If he’d known Frank was interested in watching the ball drop, he would’ve taken him to Times Square to see it live—crowds and social anxiety be damned. Maybe next year he’d take him… 

Yes, Gerard thought as he took a sip from his own glass of wine, next year he was going to take Frank to see the show live. 

“Drink, Baby. You’ll like this one. It’s sweet,” Gerard said, tapping the bottom of Frank’s glass until the boy finally took a sip. 

“It tastes funny,” Frank mumbled.

“You don’t like it?” Gerard asked, a little surprised. He’d picked the sweetest wine he could think of knowing Frank wasn’t accustomed enough to the taste of alcohol to enjoy the dry stuff. 

“You sound like such a creep right now,” Mikey muttered. “Stop trying to get him drunk.”

“Shut up,” Gerard said, rolling his eyes. 

Frank sipped from his wine a little more, but didn’t seem to like it all. He continued to sip it, however, and when it was empty he handed it absently to Gerard who took it and refilled it while fixing himself a spiked cup of coffee. 

“You need to stop playing on that laptop,” Gerard said as he handed Frank the wineglass. 

“Why? I found this gaming site. It’s really fun.”

“Which site?” Mikey asked, leaning over to look at Frank’s screen. “Oh, yeah… I used to play on that site all the time in, you know, middle school.”

“It’s really fun,” Frank repeated, taking a long drink from the wine and then shuddering once he’d swallowed. 

“Why don’t you sit up here and watch tv with me?” Gerard asked as he reclaimed his seat on the couch. Frank turned to look at him and stared a moment before closing his laptop and finally coming to join him. 

He brought his wine glass with him and snuggled into Gerard’s side. In no time at all his second glass was gone and Gerard poured him a third, bringing the wine bottle into the room with him this time so he wouldn’t have to leave Frank again—somewhat afraid the boy would go back to his laptop. 

Frank finished the entire bottle at a quarter ‘til midnight and by that point was nothing more than a squirming, giggling, blushing mess Gerard had changed the television channel to a news station so Frank could see Times Square. Frank had seen someone in the audience with a funny winter hat, so all the boy wanted to talk about was how silly that person looked—and how cute Gerard would look in the same, silly hat.

Mikey kept passing him confused, uncomfortable glances, but shook his head and turned away whenever Gerard would catch his eyes. 

In the time before the ball dropped, Gerard went into the kitchen, swaying a little bit after making his last drink a little too strong, and grabbed the bottle of champagne from the fridge. Yeah, it was probably supposed to be served on ice, but he was lucky his mother even let him keep it in house let alone their fridge when she knew Frank would be the one to drink it. 

He opened it over the kitchen sink so any foam wouldn’t make a mess, and then poured a glass for himself and Frank. Mikey had consumed the entire six pack of beer so he didn’t deserve any champagne. 

He brought the bottle and the two glasses into the living room, and was welcomed by the sounds of Frank clapping—as if this were some sort of sitcom and the star of the show had just appeared. It made Gerard start laughing and he tried to kiss Frank when he got back to the couch, but the boy fell away from him, lying back over two of the three couch cushions. He was laughing so hard even though Gerard didn’t see anything funny, and almost missed the countdown to the ball drop because he wouldn’t sit up until Mikey told him to. 

When he saw the champagne glass in Gerard’s hand, he snagged it, spilling some onto the couch cushion, and then chugged it. Once he’d swallowed he made a face of disgust and shook his head. Gerard smiled at him and took a small sip from his own glass before setting it and the bottle onto the coffee table where Frank placed his.

As soon as Frank was focused on the tv, his eyes lit up and glistened almost as much as the colorful, glowing ball on the television. Frank had his cheek pressed to Gerard’s shoulder and his hands both pulled up to his mouth as he watched, hiding his smile.

Gerard kissed the top of Frank’s head and glanced at the screen as the countdown neared its end. 

Three… Two… One…

Frank’s eyes were still glittering as he watched the confetti shower on the crowd and listened to them scream. Mikey let out a half-hearted, unenthusiastic “yay” in mockery of the people in the square, his focus returning to his laptop.

Gerard tapped Frank’s shoulder until the boy looked up at him and then leaned over for a kiss, keeping it innocent until Frank giggled and opened his mouth. Gerard glanced at Mikey out of the corner of his eye—his lips still pressed to Frank’s—then closed them and parted his lips so Frank could kiss him deeper. He didn’t particularly want to make out with Frank in front of Mikey, but when the boy climbed into his lap, Gerard wasn’t about to complain. He wrapped his arms around him and let their tongues slide together. 

“Can you guys _not_ mouth-fuck each other while I’m sitting here? I can see your reflection and I’m about to fucking puke.”

Frank giggled and slid out of Gerard’s lap, laying back on the couch and covering his reddened face with his hands.

“My head is spinning,” Frank said, cackling and pitching back and forth a little.

“Why do you always have to get him drunk?” Mikey asked, looking over his shoulder at them. 

“He’s funny when he’s drunk,” Gerard said, smiling at his giggly boyfriend who was rocking himself back and forth on the couch.

“Yeah—it’s real funny when he pukes everywhere.”

“Can I have another drink?” Frank asked, fumbling as he tried to stand up. 

“One more,” Gerard said, watching as Frank picked up the champagne bottle and tried to pour himself a glass. He spilled a large amount on the coffee table, then knocked over the glass when it was halfway full. 

As soon as the glass tipped on its side, Frank’s smiling, giggly demeanor shifted and he was frowning and looking close to tears in an instant. 

“Aw, Baby—do you need some help?” Gerard asked, leaning forward to grab the glass and set it back up. 

Mikey stood up, a bit wobbly, from the floor and went into the kitchen to retrieve paper towels to clean up the spilled champagne. Frank set the bottle down, his hand shaking, and then quickly brought his hands up to his mouth as he stared at the mess on the table.

“Frank?” Gerard tried, standing up and wrapping his arms gently around his boyfriend and holding him close. Frank said nothing, but started making a high-pitched whining noise in the back of his throat as the spilled champagne started dripping down the edge of the table onto the floor. “It’s okay, Baby. What’s wrong, huh?”

“I spilled it,” Frank whimpered, blinking rapidly.

Mikey returned with the paper towels and started sopping up the champagne, lifting the glass and bottle to clear away any drops that might be left behind. 

“It’s okay,” Gerard said, pulling Frank back and making him sit on his lap on the couch. Frank kept his eyes on the coffee table where the champagne had been. “Baby?”

“I spilled it,” Frank whimpered a second time before choking out a little sob.

Mikey looked up at the sound, his expression unpleasantly puzzled. 

“How drunk _are_ you?” He asked, shaking his head and huffing out a small laugh.

“Mikey—be nice,” Gerard said, pressing a kiss to Frank’s temple as held the boy a little closer. He hadn’t expected to get Frank _crying_ drunk and now he felt a bit bad—but drunk tears were shallow and he was sure if he said the right thing he could get Frank to start giggling again in no time.

“Am I going to get in trouble?” Frank asked, his voice trembling. 

“No—No, Baby. How would you get in trouble?” Gerard asked, kissing Frank’s cheek. “You think _I’m_ gonna get mad at you?”

“Yeah,” Frank whimpered. “I didn’t mean to…”

“Aw—I’m not mad, Baby,” Gerard said, squeezing Frank tight and nuzzling the back of his head.

“Frank, you’re wasted,” Mikey said, walking away with the dripping paper towels. 

Frank made another sad noise and stared at the table.

“What? I told you I’m not mad. You’re so cute, Baby. I’m not mad at you.”

Frank squirmed around in Gerard’s lap until he could look his boyfriend in the face. His eyes were bleary and Gerard felt bad for finding it more cute than upsetting. 

“What?” Gerard asked, pecking Frank on the lips. 

“Are you going to whip me?” Frank asked, his voice cracking. He looked scared and Gerard didn’t like that. It wasn’t cute anymore when he looked so terrified. 

“I’m not gonna hurt you, Baby,” Gerard said quietly. “Not…not unless you ask me to. You know, if you’re into that kind of thing. Kinky little brat.” He flashed a smile and kissed Frank on the cheek, laughing a little when the fear on Frank’s face turned to confusion. 

Then he started blushing a little and giggled. 

“You want more champagne?”

“Don’t give him more champagne!” Mikey exclaimed as he returned to the room and dropped back down in front of his laptop. 

“Here. I’m gonna pour you a drink—then we can go to bed, okay?” Gerard said, smiling and leaning forward to pour what was left of the champagne into Frank’s glass. Frank watched his motions and then took a sip when Gerard pushed the rim of the glass to his lips. 

He kept bumping the rim against Frank’s face whenever he’d turn away or try to stop drinking, finally getting the boy to laugh and lose the last few traces of the sadness in his eyes. 

“I’m going upstairs,” Mikey said, snapping his laptop shut and standing up from the floor.

“Why?” Frank asked, twisting around to look at him as he moved. 

“Because you two are being disgusting,” Mikey muttered.

“I’m sorry,” Frank said. 

“Hush,” Gerard murmured, kissing Frank’s cheek and watching as Mikey retreated upstairs to his room.

“Did I make him mad at me?” Frank asked. “Was it the champa… cham… champin. Was it the—the champin?” Frank tried looking Gerard in the eye, but then started giggling. “Champin—that’s not right, is it?” His laughing got harder until it was borderline hysterical. “That’s not right!—It’s not right, Gerard.”

Gerard laughed and pulled Frank into another kiss, disappointed when Frank pulled away to start chuckling again. 

“Gerard?”

“What?”

“Geeerard?” Frank stared at him and kept giggling. “Your name is stupid—it’s stupid.”

“Oh, really!” Gerard couldn’t help when his face widened in shock. His feelings weren’t hurt by it—how could they be when Frank was straddling his hips and giggling at him as he said it?—not to mention the terrible blush on his face. “You think my name’s stupid, huh?”

“No,” Frank said, shaking his head rapidly and leaning back in Gerard’s lap, losing his balance and almost falling back onto the coffee table had Gerard not grabbed his hips and steadied him. 

“No?”

“No! You’re—you’re pretty. Gerard?—Gerard?” Frank leaned forward again and grabbed Gerard’s chin with his right hand, gently at first but then starting to squeeze a little too hard until Gerard pulled away. “Gerard?”

“Yes?” Gerard asked. 

“You’re pretty. Do you like me?”

“Do I _like_ you? Baby, I love you,” Gerard said, leaning forward and kissing Frank hard on the lips. It didn’t work to make the kiss deeper—Frank just kept giggling. 

( ) ( ) ( )

It was three a.m. by the time Gerard got Frank downstairs and in bed. He’d had to give him water and something to eat because his stomach got upset, but he didn’t throw up this time and that was a plus.

He was still giggly and happy-go-lucky, though, even if he wasn’t so drunk anymore, and Gerard liked that. He liked Frank to be happy—to look innocent and giggle whenever Gerard would stroke the inside of his thighs, even if it was still over his jeans.

They kissed for a little while and Gerard was able to coax Frank out of his jeans, but didn’t move to take his boxer briefs off just yet. He ran his palm over the front, rolling Frank’s semi-hard cock back and forth against his belly until he got Frank to start rolling his hips on his own. When Frank got a little too eager, though, Gerard turned Frank around and made the boy sit between his legs, Frank’s back pressed against his chest as Gerard laid his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder. 

“I wanna… I wanna do something special with you tonight,” Gerard said, kissing Frank’s cheek while stroking the inside of Frank’s thigh with his fingertips. 

“Really?” Frank asked, turning to look at Gerard in the eye but giggling and turning away as soon as eye contact was made. 

“Yeah—but I don’t know what.” Gerard slid his right hand down the front of Frank’s underwear and started stroking him. Frank sighed softly and pushed his hips upwards. When Gerard made a fist, Frank ended up thrusting into it on his own—pleasuring himself. “Does that feel good, Baby? You like that?”

“Yes,” Frank whispered, tilting his head to nuzzle Gerard’s hair. He kept letting out shaky breaths, not exactly moaning but not quite silent. 

“You want more?” Gerard asked, moving his hand just slightly. As soon as he started moving his hand, Frank’s hips stilled and the boy pressed back harder against Gerard’s chest. “You have to tell me—do you want more?”

“Yes,” Frank whispered, his voice strained and pleading. 

“Do you want to do something… _really_ special tonight? Really special?” Gerard asked, stilling his hand in favor of swirling his thumb over the slit, smearing around the precum until Frank’s thighs started twitching.

“A-are you g-going to make me use th-the beads?” Frank stammered, trying to turn his hips away from Gerard’s teasing strokes. 

“No… I’ve got something else in mind. Something new for us.” Gerard slid his hands to the insides of Frank’s thighs, rubbing them gently.

It surprised him when Frank grabbed his right hand moved it over until Gerard had wrapped it around his cock again.

“Or do you want to do this instead?” Gerard asked, laughing and kissing the back of Frank’s neck as he lazily moved his hand up and down. 

“I don’t know,” Frank stammered, pressing back against Gerard’s chest and sighing heavily. “Wh-what do you want to do?”

“Well… I was thinking, if you want to, I’ll let you on top tonight. We can play with toys or you can go all the way with me,” Gerard said. 

Frank flinched, causing Gerard to still his hand and let go of the boy’s length—not wanting to make him uncomfortable. Frank craned his neck to look back at Gerard, eyes wide though Gerard couldn’t tell if it was horror or surprise.

“B-But you told me we…we wouldn’t do that until the—the bigger t-toy can fit,” he said, blinking quickly—fearful.

“Baby, you’d be on top. You know? I don’t need toys to be ready for you,” Gerard said, smiling and kissing Frank’s lips gently. The boy was still staring at him, only now his cheeks were turning dark red as it sunk in. “Would you like that?”

“I-I… I c-can’t,” Frank stammered, biting his bottom lip.

“Why?” Gerard asked. He wouldn’t pressure Frank if he wasn’t ready—if he was too scared or nervous—but he didn’t want Frank to shy away from these opportunities because he felt he wasn’t good enough or wasn’t smart enough to figure out how. 

“I-I… I don’t… I don’t know h-how—I’d mess it up. I can’t,” Frank said, fidgeting and starting to pull himself out of Gerard’s lap. 

Gerard refused to let him go. He wrapped his arms tightly around Frank’s waist and held him close, kissing his shoulder and then his cheek. 

“It’s real easy, Baby. I won’t make you if you’re not ready, but I really want this with you.” Gerard kissed Frank’s cheek again, trying to fight the anxiety that gnawed away at him. He didn’t want to scare Frank away by coming on too strong, but he wanted them to get closer. He wanted Frank to look at him the way he only did after they’d taken their intimacy to a new level—with that affection and adoration. Worship, even. 

“But… But I don’t know how,” Frank repeated, looking away from Gerard and seeming to peer around at everything in the room to avoid making eye contact with him again. 

“I’ll teach you. Everybody has to learn somewhere,” Gerard said, keeping his voice as gentle as he could. 

“I-I… I can’t,” Frank mumbled.

“Why?”

“What if I hurt you?” Frank asked, finally making eye contact again.

“You won’t hurt me.”

“Wh-what if…What if I mess up? I-I don’t want you to dump me,” Frank stammered. His arousal was almost completely gone and Gerard was starting to get nervous that instead of making a memorable night, he’d really only worked to ruin it. 

“I would _never_ dump you because of something like that,” Gerard said, kissing Frank’s cheek. “Never. I want to make you feel good. I promise, you won’t mess up—and it’ll feel really nice.”

Frank stared at him and then ducked his head. Just as Gerard began to think that he really had ruined their night by being so eager, Frank looked up again and leaned in for a kiss. Gerard kept the contact gently, but couldn’t help but grin when Frank turned around in his lap and straddled his hips. 

Gerard started stroking Frank’s sides, occasionally gripping and pulling on his hips as their mouths worked together. When Frank started to show a bit more enthusiasm, pressing his hips against Gerard’s stomach and kissing him even deeper, Gerard purred and then began the daunting task of pushing Frank away so he could retrieve the box of condoms and bottle of lube. 

The boy watched him closely, squirming around on the bed as he tried to find a position that was comfortable. Typically he just laid on his back and waited for Gerard, but tonight was different and he didn’t seem to know what to do with himself. 

He sat back down on the bed and opened the box of condoms, paying a little bit of attention to Frank was watching him curiously. As soon as he had the packaging open, Frank was at his side, looking over his shoulder and trying to see what was inside the box. Gerard took one of the condoms out and tried to hand it to him, but Frank pulled away as if the foil wrapper were a spider instead. 

Gerard couldn’t help but giggle at him before stripping off his clothes while Frank watched him nervously. He liked how timid Frank was—liked the way he blushed and fidgeted. He was so innocent and perfect. Gerard liked the shyness, the insecurities. He wanted to kiss them away—watch them be replaced with all the sinful things Frank was so afraid of. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank couldn’t believe what he was seeing was real. Gerard was lying on his back in front of him, fingering himself the way he always did for Frank. Frank couldn’t look away even though it felt wrong to stare, watching as two of Gerard’s fingers worked in and out of his hole. He had honestly never seen anything like it in the world and he didn’t know what he was supposed to do other than wait for Gerard to say he was ready and then figure out how to put the condom on. 

His cheeks started to burn even hotter when Gerard began moaning and added a third finger. Frank bit his lip as he watched them slip in and out, wishing it was happening to him instead. Three fingers still hurt him a bit, though, and he didn’t understand how Gerard could take it and moan like it felt _good._

“Come here, Baby,” Gerard groaned, gesturing with his free hand for Frank to climb over toward him. 

Frank hesitated a moment, then complied, blushing profusely as he toyed with the condom wrapper between his fingers. Gerard reached up and put his hand on the back of Frank’s head, pulling him down for a deep kiss and moaning into his mouth as he continued to twist and spread his fingers. 

Gerard’s face was flushed too, and he kept smiling even though Frank knew what was happening had to hurt… It did for Frank, anyway, when he was on the receiving end. Apparently, Gerard was tougher than him because he didn’t look pained in the slightest way. 

“Are you ready?” Gerard asked, smirking a little, his eyes dark as he stared at Frank—looking hungry. It made Frank anxious and his stomach started fluttering and tightening all at once. 

All of a sudden, Gerard was sitting up and he took the condom wrapper from Frank’s hand while the boy just stared. He didn’t know what to expect once Gerard tore the wrapper open. His mother had had him pulled from the sex-ed portion of Health Class and though he knew what condoms were and how they worked, he’d still never seen what they look like. 

“Wh-what do I…” Frank stared at the strange, yellowish disk that Gerard pulled out of the packet and immediately went quiet. Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t that. 

Gerard handed the little circle of latex to Frank stared at it, a little repulsed but mostly confused. He didn’t understand how it was supposed to work… It was so _small._ Frank passed a quick glance down at himself and wondered how it was supposed to fit over him…he wasn’t by any means large, but he was bigger than _that._

Frank looked up as Gerard reached for the bottle of lube and then blinked a few times when Gerard turned the condom over in Frank’s hand and then took it from him—adding a couple drops of the lubricant to it and then setting the bottle aside. 

His heart started racing when Gerard reached for him, grasping his cock and stroking it a few times before lowering the hand with the condom. Frank bit his lip as Gerard pressed the condom against his tip—it was cold and he flinched away, but Gerard moved with him and started rolling it down his length. It was slimy and cold and it felt weird—and tight. Frank didn’t know if he liked it or not, or if he wasn’t supposed to like it or even consider it. 

“And, because I know you don’t like to touch yourself in front of me,” Gerard said, picking up the bottle of lubricant again and pouring some out onto his hand. He reached forward then and started smearing it over the condom while looking Frank in the eye.

It made him so uncomfortable to have Gerard _staring_ at him like that. He was scared he was going to mess this up and repulse Gerard, or hurt him, or just waste his time. He didn’t know what he was doing and he doubted he would be able to figure out how to make Gerard feel good…

All Gerard had to do to make him feel good was touch him just a little bit. For some reason, Frank felt it wasn’t the same for Gerard. Gerard was older—he knew more things… Frank was never going to be good enough to please him, _actually_ please him. Even if Gerard insisted he was teaching Frank and taking _pride_ in teaching him, Frank knew he wasn’t any good. 

He was lucky Gerard was letting him this close. So lucky that Gerard had faith that he might actually be good. 

“Now come here,” Gerard whispered, stealing another kiss and placing a hand on Frank’s hip, coaxing him to lay down on top of Gerard’s body. Gerard kept kissing him and running his fingers through Frank’s hair, soothing him and enticing him all at once. “Come on, Baby,” Gerard breathed between kisses, keeping his mouth as close as he could to Frank’s. “You know what to do—come on.”

Frank felt himself start shaking again as he pulled back and looked down at Gerard’s spread legs and thighs. It was sinful and sick, but he couldn’t help but stare at Gerard’s erection which lie heavy and engorged against his stomach. He wasn’t used to seeing Gerard from this angle—he wasn’t used to seeing Gerard’s hole or putting anything near it let alone _himself **in** _ it.

“Come on, Baby. Want you so bad—come on. It’s okay. Come on. Come on, Baby.” Gerard kept moaning—practically chanting—as he stared up at Frank. “You know what to do. Come on.”

Frank took in a deep, trembling breath and then reached down, gripping himself and pressing the head of his cock against Gerard’s opening. His heart was beating so hard and he didn’t know if it was from excitement or fear. 

“That’s it, Baby. Just go slow. It’s okay.” 

Frank looked up at Gerard, searching his face. All he got in response was a lustful until Gerard started chuckling at him.

“Come on, Baby. I love you—it’s okay. Come on.”

Frank started breathing a little heavier and looked back down. He really hoped he didn’t mess this up. He really didn’t want to mess this up.

Frank’s breath caught in his throat as he started pushing forward, immediately feeling the heat and tightness around him as he draped himself over Gerard’s torso—trying to balance himself without putting weight on his cast. He wanted to stop, but he couldn’t. Once he fit the head inside, the breath rushed back into his body and he slowly pushed the rest of the way in. 

He looked up at Gerard again, knowing exactly what he needed to do but wanting Gerard to tell him. It didn’t feel so sinful if someone else told him to act that way.

“It’s okay. Come on—move just a little. Okay?”

Frank ducked his head and then pulled back a little, sparks of pleasure immediately going up his spine. Once he started moving, he couldn’t stop. He kept his head bowed, hiding his face in shame as he gave in to the sin.

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard needed to think of something, and fast. Frank wouldn’t look at him, no matter what he said or even if he squirmed into uncomfortable angles trying to get a kiss. Frank thrust his hip so gently, so slightly, he was barely moving at all, but he every now and then he would let out a shuddery breath or a quiet, almost inaudible moan. 

He couldn’t let Frank go on like this—thinking sex was nothing but a source of shame and humiliation. There was more to it. There was closeness and love. He wanted Frank to feel that connection, that affection—the _love._

He _loved_ Frank. He wanted this to show that. 

“Frankie?” Gerard said, reaching up to grab Frank’s hips, pulling him close and keeping him in place. “Look at me, Baby. Frank—look at me.”

Finally, Frank looked up at him again, his cheeks flushed bright red and his bottom lip trembling. 

“Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah,” Frank stammered.

“You sure?”

“I’m—I’m not good at this am I?” Frank stammered, blinking rapidly as if he were going to start crying.

Gerard couldn’t let that happen.

“Feels good to me,” Gerard said, flashing a small grin. “Just pull back a little more, okay? It feels good, doesn’t it?”

“O-Okay,” Frank whispered, doing as Gerard told him. 

Gerard kept coaching him, throwing in as many pet names and words of affection as he could manage so Frank wouldn’t get upset. The first time Frank struck Gerard’s prostate, Gerard hadn’t been expecting it and let out an involuntary, loud moan. It scared Frank who immediately stopped moving to ask if he were okay. Gerard had to start _begging_ Frank to get him to move again— _pleading._

But that seemed to be what it took—as soon as Gerard made himself sound desperate, Frank finally let go and got out of his head. He was clumsy, of course, and little bit awkward, but as soon as he realized what he was doing felt good for himself and for Gerard, he stopped looking guilty. 

Gerard knew Frank was going to finish long before he would, so he wrapped his hand around his own length, stroking himself as rapidly as he watched Frank’s face—staring at his lips as he moaned, focusing on how wet and shiny they were and how good they felt on other parts of his body. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank knew he was making a fool of himself—moaning, gasping, practically crying as he moved his hips in whatever way Gerard told him. He wished he’d go deaf so he wouldn’t have to hear the gross, awkward noises, or the creaking of the mattress, or his own annoying sounds. 

Whenever Gerard would moan, though, Frank felt it in his core. At first he thought Gerard was faking it, but when Gerard’s eyelids would flutter or he’d arch his back, Frank knew it was real—and it was happening because of him. He was making Gerard moan—he was pleasing his boyfriend.

He never thought he’d have this chance—not ever. No one would ever want him, he’d thought. He wasn’t good enough for anyone. He wasn’t desirable enough—yet here he was. Gerard wanted him. Gerard was moaning his name, telling him he was good and sexy. 

He didn’t think it’d ever happen. His mother told him this would never happen. She told him he was ugly and not good enough, not smart enough, not worthy.

But Gerard let him. 

Gerard let him close and kept him safe. Gerard didn’t hurt him or make him feel cheap like Kyle had.

Frank gasped as he felt Gerard’s muscles tightening around him, spasming and clenching as his lover let out a string of loud curses. Frank felt something hot splash against his stomach and looked down to see Gerard stroking himself through an orgasm, shooting another hot string of seed onto his own chest. 

As soon as he saw it happening, Frank’s entire body rippled with an intense, white-hot heat. His hips bucked forward and with a few more thrusts, his entire mind went white with pleasure, stars flashing behind his eyes. His fingers tightened their grip—one in the bedsheets and the other on Gerard’s thigh.

His boyfriend let out a shrill gasp when Frank’s nails dug into him and Frank whimpered that he was sorry as he collapsed against Gerard’s chest. He shuddered as the older man’s muscled continued to clench around him, holding him tight and close. 

Frank nuzzled Gerard’s chest, unable to reach his mouth for a kiss and unwilling to pull out in order to do so. Gerard wrapped his arms around him and pressed a kiss to the top of Frank’s head before whispering that he felt so nice—so good. 

“I love you,” Frank murmured, hooking his arms around Gerard’s in an attempt to get even closer. Even when Gerard legs crossed around his waist, it wasn’t enough. “I love you,” Frank repeated, knowing he was coming off desperate and needy—whiny.

“Mm. I love you too, Baby,” Gerard said, his voice a little strained. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Frank whispered, squirming as he felt himself going soft.

“You’ve gotta let me go so I can clean us up, Baby,” Gerard whispered. “Okay? I promise I’m not going anywhere. You’ve just gotta… Gotta take it out. I don’t want to lose the condom, okay?”

Frank didn’t respond. He felt that if he let go or moved away an inch, Gerard might disappear—or he might wake up. This was a dream, wasn’t it? His head was foggy and he was feeling kind of dizzy…

“I’m sorry, Baby,” Gerard said with a loud groan as he started sitting up, pushing Frank gently back from his chest. 

Frank whimpered as soon as Gerard pulled away from him. It was only a matter of seconds before Gerard had taken the condom off for him and throwing it away in the trashcan beside his desk. He grabbed a mess of tissues and then returned to the bed, kissing Frank on the mouth before cleaning off both of their chests and stomachs. 

Gerard laid down as soon as the tissues were thrown away and wrapped his arms tightly around Frank’s shoulders, pulling him down to the mattress and kissing his cheek.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Frank whispered, his voice trembling. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Baby. So much. So, so much.” Gerard kissed him on the mouth, then rubbed their noses together until Frank couldn’t help but smile and giggle just a little. But the laugh turned fast to a whimper as tears bit the back of his eyes. “Hey—Hey, it’s okay. Don’t cry. It’s okay—why are you crying?”

“I don’t know,” Frank whispered, wishing Gerard would just ignore it. He hugged him tighter and pressed his head into Gerard’s shoulder, hiding his face as he tried to gain some composure. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Gerard said softly, rubbing Frank’s back. 

Gerard started whispering little praises in his ear, then pulled away again to go turn off the light. When he returned, he draped the blankets over Frank’s body and then snuggled up next to him.

“I thought you did really good,” Gerard said. “Not bad at all for your first time.” Gerard sounded proud of him, but Frank couldn’t say anything in response. He just wanted to be close—stay close—and no amount of hugging was getting him near enough. “Are you okay?”

“I’m really dizzy,” Frank whispered, nuzzling Gerard’s chest as he fought of the tears. He didn’t know what he was so upset about—or if he was even upset at all. He felt weird…tingly. 

Exhausted. 

Frank leaned up for one final kiss and then closed his eyes. Maybe tomorrow he’d feel a little better.


	53. Chapter 53

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the amazing (Mama) Squad I know is lurking out there in the Tumblr world--this one's for you! <3

_Chapter 53_

Gerard stroked Frank’s hair, watching him sleep in the dim light. He really needed to get up and use the bathroom, but Frank was sleeping on his arm and he didn’t want to wake the boy—not yet. It was early morning, and he was afraid if he moved, Frank might think he was trying to leave for work and get upset.

He was so relieved he didn’t have to work until the evening. It would be cruel to let Frank go all the way and then abandon him in the morning—especially since he knew how sensitive Frank was to perceived abandonment. Gerard could leave to go pee and come back to find Frank in hysterics, thinking he’d somehow caused offense and made his boyfriend hate him.

If only Frank realized Gerard could never hate him—not even if they had to share their bed with three dogs instead of Zoe (who had crawled between their bodies in the middle of the night). 

“Baby…” Gerard whispered, pushing the bangs out of Frank’s face. “Baby… Frankie…” 

The boy stirred, his eyebrows furrowing a little as he nuzzled his head into Gerard’s arm a little more—fighting to stay asleep.

“Baby…” Gerard leaned over and pressed a kiss to the tip of Frank’s nose, giggling when the boy started moaning and shifted off his arm. “Baby, I’m going upstairs. Okay?” Gerard whispered, knowing Frank was still sleeping as he withdrew his arm. “Frankie, I’m going upstairs,” Gerard said, a little louder, hoping it would get through as he sat up and made his way off the bed—climbing over Zoe and Frank both. 

Every move drew his attention to the soreness—something he’d gone without a long time and wasn’t quite used to yet. It was familiar though, and he’d missed it. And knowing that Frank was the one who’d caused it just made it so much more intense. He didn’t think he would be able to get Frank to take things that far—at least not so soon. Maybe after a year of being together, not now. 

He tried not to stay upstairs long, but by the time he got back, Frank was awake and waiting for him—looking as sad as Gerard had expected. 

“Good morning, Baby,” Gerard said, smiling at him as he returned to the bed, immediately wrapping his arms around Frank and pulling the boy back down with him. He kissed Frank on the mouth as soon as he could and nuzzled him, trying to make up for the few moments they were apart.

“Hi,” Frank whispered, wrapping his arms around Gerard’s torso and squeezing. 

“How are you feeling, Baby?” Gerard asked. 

“Head hurts,” Frank mumbled. 

“Your head hurts?” Gerard asked.

“I don’t feel good,” he added, snuggling closer. 

“I thought I got you hydrated last night…”

Frank hummed quietly, but didn’t answer.

“Are you okay, Baby?” Gerard asked, petting his hair and then holding him tight when that didn’t seem to work. 

“I’m dizzy,” Frank added. “Don’t…don’t feel good.”

“I’ll go get you some water, okay?” Gerard said, moving to get up from the bed. As soon as he sat up, however, Frank latched onto him and pulled him back down, whimpering. “I was just going to get you water, Baby,” Gerard said, chuckling softly and kissing Frank on top of his head. 

“You work today,” Frank whimpered. 

“Not ‘til tonight,” Gerard said, knowing it was going to be has hard for him as it would be for Frank. 

“Wish you could stay,” Frank mumbled. “I love you…”

“I love you, too, Baby. I wish I could stay home, but after a holiday corporate would know I was faking,” Gerard said quietly, holding his lover closer and snuggling him. 

“Really?”

“Of course, Frankie. I wouldn’t want to make love if I didn’t,” Gerard said, giggling a little and kissing Frank on top of his head. 

“Make love…” Frank repeated, as if the idea were foreign to him. 

“Yeah. Make love—like we did last night,” Gerard said, kissing Frank all over his cheeks and neck until he got Frank to smile. “I’m so proud of you, Baby. You did so good.”

“Stop,” Frank said, giggling a little bit. 

“Why?” Gerard asked, kissing Frank on the mouth and then his cheek. 

“I wasn’t even good…”

“Baby, you were perfect—I saw stars.”

“Gross,” Frank said, ducking away from the kisses and pressing his face into Gerard’s chest.

“How is that gross? It just means I liked it.

“I was bad at it, though…”

“You weren’t bad at all,” Gerard said. There was no way in hell he’d ever complain about Frank not wanting to move at all the first half of their time together. 

“I didn’t do it right…”

“There’s no wrong way to have sex, Frank,” Gerard said softly. “Except when it’s by force—but I don’t think you have to worry about that. I mean…I hope not at least. You don’t feel like I forced you, do you, Baby?”

Frank was quiet for a long time, then shook his head and nestled closer. 

“No… I just… I’m not good at it.”

“You’re fine, Baby. It’ll get better. You last a long time, too. I was really impressed. I thought you’d finish in a second.”

“How could I? I was terrified,” Frank mumbled, crawling forward and lying his head on Gerard’s chest.

“Aw, I didn’t want you to be scared,” Gerard said, rubbing Frank’s back.

“I didn’t want to hurt you somehow,” Frank whispered, shame coming through in his voice. “I would’ve felt so bad. You’d never let me touch you again…”

“Baby, accidents happen. If something had gone wrong, I wouldn’t have held it against you.”

“I would, though… I-I don’t want to hurt you. I’m not…”

“Hush, Baby,” Gerard said, nuzzling the top of Frank’s head. “I had a good time. Did you?”

“Y-Yeah,” Frank said after a long pause, sounding bashful and ashamed. 

“It felt good, right?” Gerard pressed.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“I… I liked it,” Frank whispered.

“I’m glad,” Gerard responded, kissing the top of Frank’s head and squeezing him tight. “I love you so much. Do you know that?”

“Yes,” Frank said, giggling.

“Mm, I don’t think you do,” Gerard said, holding Frank as tightly as he could. 

“Yes I do!” Frank protested, voice slightly choked by how hard Gerard was squeezing him. 

“No—you have no idea,” Gerard said, relaxing his grip and kissing Frank’s hair. 

Frank didn’t protest, he just hummed and snuggled close—happy. He knew he was loved and that he was safe. He knew Gerard wasn’t going to abandon him or betray his trust.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank didn’t know what to do once Gerard had gone to work. Donna and Don had come home—and promptly gone upstairs to take a nap. Though Frank had a feeling they weren’t napping and couldn’t shake the thought no matter how hard he tried. He and Mikey practiced guitar downstairs in the living room for a while, but Frank felt lost without Gerard and ended up going down to his room to lay in Gerard’s bed while waiting for him to return.

He tried texting, but Gerard’s texts were few and far between, making Frank feel that much more lonely and dejected. He knew Gerard was working, but he missed him. He loved him so much and he just wanted him to come home—come home and pay attention to him, reassure him that he was good and deserving of love and affection. He didn’t like feeling that Gerard wasn’t answering because the night before had been a mistake and now he didn’t want Frank around. 

By the time Gerard did get home, around ten-thirty that night, Frank had lost all hope that his boyfriend even liked him anymore. He’d sent so many texts but Gerard didn’t answer any—not even when he had time after the store closed. Usually he’d text from the parking lot, but not tonight…

Tonight, Frank wasn’t worth his time.

Still, Frank laid in Gerard’s bed, trying to soak up all the memories he could get from the smells in the bedsheets. When Gerard stepped down in the room, Frank didn’t look up. He expected Gerard to tell him to move. He expected Gerard to come stand in front of him and tell him why they couldn’t be together anymore.

“Hey, Baby. Are you feeling okay?” Gerard asked.

Frank looked up but didn’t say anything. His chest hurt and he feared that if he broke his silence, he might end up sobbing—and Gerard wouldn’t want to comfort him…

“What’s the matter?” Gerard frowned and came over to Frank on the bed after shucking off his winter coat. His scarf was still wound around his neck and Frank stared at the striped pattern instead of Gerard’s face. “Baby?”

Frank finally met Gerard’s gaze when the older man sat down beside him on the bed and started stroking his hair.

“What’s the matter?”

“You didn’t text me,” Frank mumbled, hating how pathetic and desperate he sounded. Gerard’s phone could’ve just died… Why did he have to overreact? Why was he always so sensitive?

“My phone died. I forgot to charge it last night,” Gerard said, looking down at Frank’s sadly, stroking his hair gently. “Did you think I was ignoring you?” 

Frank, ashamed, couldn’t say anything. He looked at the bedsheets and tried to withhold a whimper. 

“I’m sorry, Baby… I didn’t mean to ignore you.” Gerard just kept petting his hair, not getting mad at Frank’s immaturity…his childishness. “Did you need something?” Gerard moved to lie down beside him and pulled him close. 

Frank snuggled closer without a second thought, needing that intimacy back—wishing they could get as close as they had been last night, praying Gerard wasn’t tired of him after that one time and would never want him again. 

“What’s the matter?”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk to me,” Frank whispered, hoping the words wouldn’t drive his boyfriend away. They’d been so close last night—he didn’t want to lose that. He _couldn’t._

“No—I wasn’t ignoring you. I’m sorry, Baby.” Gerard kissed him on top of his head and nuzzled him. “I love you so much. I don’t want you to be sad.”

Frank said nothing, just clutched onto Gerard’s scarf and snuggled into his boyfriend’s chest. He hoped Gerard didn’t think low of him now—now that he proved just how desperate and needy and pathetic he was. He was embarrassed at himself for thinking Gerard could be so cruel as to ignore him—avoid him—after they’d made love. He really hoped Gerard didn’t think him ungrateful or undeserving of that kind of attention again. 

“I’m sorry,” Frank whispered.

“It’s okay, Baby. You don’t need to be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s okay.” Gerard continued to coddle him, making Frank feel more and more protected, more and more safe. More and more loved. “I love you so much. So, so much. I’d never ignore you on purpose, okay?”

“Okay,” Frank whispered, sighing softly. “I love you too.”

Gerard hummed happily and started rocking back and forth a little, moving Frank with him while the boy toyed with his scarf until, somehow, it ended up with one end wrapped around each of their necks. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard and Frank had gone out shopping together, planning to use Gerard’s bonus check (that had finally cleared after being deposited in his account just after Christmas) to buy Frank some new jeans and shirts since he’d gained weight since his last trip to the mall. Donna had chipped in a little extra cash, but wasn’t able to afford much after the expensive Christmas gifts. She tried to send Mikey along, but he was content to sit in his room and watch guitar tutorials online instead, claiming he didn’t want to watch Frank and Gerard make out in public. 

While they were out, a delivery came, a large box addressed to Frank that immediately filled Donna with an overwhelming sense of dread. Even the UPS man asked her if she were alright as she signed off on the package. She couldn’t even fake a smile for him as she dragged the box inside, knowing—sensing deep in her core that the package came from his grandmother and that it had to be full of horrible things. Bibles with cruel scripture circled, probably. Books on how to recover from sin, maybe. She wasn’t allowed to open Frank’s mail or hide it from him, but how could she give Frank the perfect Christmas and New Year’s, then let his mother’s family ruin it?

How could she let that happen?

Donna pulled the box into the living room, trying to decide what to do with it—whether leave it out for Frank to find or hide it, or burry it in the trash item by item until it was all gone.

It was only after she’d sat down on the couch in front of the box that she truly observed the label. 

Instead of being postmarked from Pennsylvania where his grandmother lived, it was marked from New York. And instead of being mailed by a cruel woman, the sender label read “F. Iero.”

Donna felt her chest tighten and she suddenly couldn’t even draw a breath.

It was a package from Frank’s father. As soon as Donna had gotten custody, the man had been given her address and phone number in case he wanted to get in touch, but the man never bothered. Now he’d sent a massive package and the stamp showed it had been mailed two days before Christmas. 

She wanted to open the box and see what was inside, fearful that his father would be just as wicked as his mother—sending him something awful or offensive in place a thoughtful gift—but she wasn’t allowed. She couldn’t… 

( ) ( ) ( )

“Frank?”

Her tone, the way she called to him as soon as he stepped into the house, made Frank’s spirits immediately sink. He was in trouble—that was that tone meant. It meant he’d been bad and he’d upset his mother. 

All of the good feelings he’d gotten from his day out with Gerard—the euphoria of at least one hundred _public_ kisses—drained away from him in a matter of seconds. He hadn’t even felt this bad the first time a stranger scoffed at him and Gerard, and that had hurt. (The shame was short lived, though, when another gay couple in the mall walked past them, winked, and then kissed each other—showing their unanimous support after witnessing the scene.)

“Momma?” Frank answered, his voice meek as he dropped his shopping bags and moved slowly toward the living room. Gerard followed him and tried to kiss his head, but Frank pulled away. He was in trouble. He didn’t deserve anymore kisses. 

When he got to the living room, Donna was sitting in her chair, a large box in front of her on the floor. 

“You got a package in the mail today,” Donna said, looking at him briefly and then turning her focus back to the television.

“I’m sorry,” Frank said, not sure why getting mail made her so unhappy with him.

“Frankie, I’m not mad. I’m just telling you, you got a package today.”

“Who’s it from?” Gerard asked, stepping around Frank who had paused in the living room doorway and approaching the box.

“Momma?” Frank whispered, looking at the package nervously—terrified of whatever his mother would think to send him. Bibles, probably. Bibles and books about the horrible things that happen in mental hospitals. 

Gerard kneeled down beside the box and shifted it around, looking over the label.

“Wait… I’m confused,” Gerard mumbled. 

“Why?” Frank asked, too scared to get any closer. He didn’t know why Donna was acting so strange, he didn’t know why Gerard was confused—he just wanted to go back to the way things were at the mall. He wanted to feel safe again. 

“It’s from your father,” Donna said, glancing at him again. 

“From… From Dad?” Frank stammered, his mouth running dry. His dad hadn’t written him or called him or made any efforts to see him since he’d walked out all those years ago. Now he’d sent him a package? 

Frank didn’t want it. 

He didn’t want anything to do with it. His father had abandoned him, left him with Momma when he had to have known how much she hated him. 

“It seems like…like Christmas gifts or something,” Gerard said, shifting the box around to feel its weight. “Do you want me to open it?” Gerard asked, looking up at Frank who shrugged. 

It didn’t feel real. Why would his father send him presents now? Frank thought the man had forgotten about him… 

“Are you okay?” Gerard asked, leaving the box alone for a moment in order to go back to Frank’s side. He put his hand on Frank’s shoulder and started rubbing it gently. “If you don’t want to open it, you don’t have to,” he whispered.

“I… I can open it,” Frank mumbled, approaching the box but keeping his eyes on Donna. He couldn’t figure out why she seemed upset with him. He sat down on the floor and started picking at the tape, and once he had it pulled away, he looked up at Donna again.

She was watching him intently, and offered him a smile when their eyes met. It was making him nervous and he looked over his shoulder at Gerard who came to sit down behind him, leaning over Frank’s shoulder. 

It made Frank even more nervous because he was afraid Donna would yell at them or scold them. He wasn’t used to Donna knowing about them being together and he was always anxious that the tiniest bit of affection shared between them might cause her to snap at them.

Slowly, Frank leaned forward to peer into the box. He had to dig through the Styrofoam packing peanuts before his fingers brushed against smooth packaging. He struggled or a moment to pull the package free and set it in his lap. It was large and a little bit heavy, wrapped in reflective blue paper with silver snowflakes. 

“Did you…contact his dad?” Gerard asked, looking at Donna while rubbing Frank’s shoulders. 

“No,” Donna said.

Frank listened to them while staring down at the package. He was scared to unwrap it. His father was a mystery to him. He knew as little about him as he knew about Frank. What could possibly be inside? 

Frank really hoped it wasn’t a set of Bibles. 

Slowly, he started peeling back the paper, feeling anxious and sick as the paper gave way only to show a cardboard box that he had to open as well. Inside there were two large books and Frank swallowed hard as he tipped the box to slide them out onto the floor. 

He expected Bibles, but instead a couple novels fell out. Books he’d never seen before. 

Gerard leaned forward again and wrapped his arms around Frank’s waist, looking over his shoulder at the books as Frank lifted one to read the back. It was science fiction, about a ghost who was stalking the man who killed him. The other novel was about a man trying to singlehandedly stop an alien invasion. 

They seemed interesting, Frank thought as he slowly set them aside—and definitely more welcome to him than Bibles. He had a lot of books left to read that Gerard either bought for him or recommended, but he would read these ones too when he got the time. 

His spirits lifted a little more, Frank pulled away from Gerard’s arms in order to dig through the box and packing foam again. He found another box, this one cube shaped and much smaller, and leaned back against Gerard as he started opening it.

His boyfriend kissed him on the cheek and then continuously nuzzled him, keeping him comforted as he peeled off the paper and tape. 

Inside this box was a watch—a brand new, silver one nestled on a little white pillow. It looked really nice and when Frank took it out of the box, Gerard helped him to put it on his right wrist—his left one still protected by his decorated cast. It fit surprisingly well, only a little bit loose but not so much that it could easily fall off. The watch was even ticking and set to the right time. 

“Let me see,” Donna said, leaning forward on the couch and taking Frank’s wrist in her hand, turning it back and forth to examine the watch. “That’s really nice, Frank!” 

“I know,” Frank said, getting used to receiving nice gifts but never expecting to receive one from his dad. 

He dug through the large box again, excited now when his fingers gripped onto another big parcel. This one was wider than it was deep, and instead of being wrapped, the box it was in had a cartoon reindeer and snowman on it. When Frank set it in his lap, a few pieces of packing foam were still stuck to it and Gerard wiped them away on Frank’s behalf, smiling and kissing Frank’s cheek as he did. 

Frank picked off the tape holding the large package closed, and when he opened it there was a little note inside that simply said “From Joy.” He had no idea who Joy was, but he had an idea. His father had a new woman in his life, and the set of shirts inside the box had been picked out by her. 

He set the note aside and then started picking up the shirts inside one by one. They were all too big for him, but not horribly so and Donna insisted she could shrink them in the dryer without any problem. The first was a brown and navy blue striped sweater—not too flashy and not too plain. The next was a grey t-shirt with little, cream colored lines running diagonally down its front that looked like spaced-out stiches. Those lines were intersected by little purple ones and Frank liked the way the colors all popped. The third item in the box was a bulky, hooded sweatshirt. It, like the t-shirt, was a gray shade, but had white and blue detailing on the front. 

It surprised him so much that his dad who hardly knew him could pick out things for him that he actually liked. He would’ve been suspicious that Donna had called him, but she’d seemed genuinely concerned about the package once she’d seen it. If she’d told his father to send him gifts, she’d have no reason to be anxious. 

There was one package left in the bottom of the large box, and this one had an envelope taped to the front—a card inside. Frank swallowed hard before opening it. 

The writing inside took up the whole left-hand side of the card and then extended down the bottom of the right-hand side, underneath the Hallmark “Wishing you a Merry Christmas” printed in blue. 

His father missed him and hoped he was well. He’d been worried when he heard Frank was in foster care and hoped his new family was treating him well. He was sorry he’d left Frank behind and he wanted to reconnect—maybe take him out to dinner some night after the holidays so they could talk and catch up. He said he loved Frank and hadn’t stopped thinking about him since he’d left.

He put his address and phone number at the bottom of the card and said he hoped to hear back from Frank soon, though he said he would understand if Frank didn’t want to catch up. 

Inside that last package was a new winter coat—a bit too big, but sleek and structured. It reminded him of Gerard’s black pea coat and he was excited to have his own, even if it was gray and too large. 

“He bought you some really nice things,” Donna said, taking the coat from Frank to test and feel the fabric. It was wool with a maroon, silken lining. He’d wanted a new coat since he’d moved in with the Ways but never really had the heart to ask for one—now he got one without having to inconvenience Donna at all. 

“He gave me his phone number,” Frank said, looking down at the card again. Gerard, sensing Frank’s conflict, kissed his cheek and nuzzled him. “Should I…call him?”

“If you want to. It would be nice to tell him thank you,” Donna said as she folded the coat back up and set it down on the floor beside Frank. 

“What if…he doesn’t pick up?” Frank asked. 

“Then just leave a message. You can call after dinner; he probably won’t be at work then. I bet he’ll be excited to hear from you,” Donna said. 

Gerard didn’t say anything. He just kept his arms wrapped around Frank’s waist and snuggled him until the sounds of footsteps and sounded overhead accompanied by the hurried padding of Zoe’s feet on the stairs as she and Mikey came down.

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard hated to admit that he was eavesdropping, but he didn’t want Frank to get upset and be alone. So he sat in the middle of the basement stairs, out of sight of Frank who was pacing back and forth between his bed and the washing machine while talking to his dad for the first time in over a decade. Their conversation had started out slow and awkward, with Frank stammering and apologizing a lot—and trying to end the call a lot only to have his father talk him out of it somehow. Frank had been so nervous he was practically crying at the start of the call.

He was speaking more rapidly now, though, excitedly telling his dad about Zoe and how nice Gerard was for buying her for him. He talked about Gerard _a lot,_ which was flattering but it made Gerard nervous. He was scared that it would become obvious that Frank was infatuated with him—in love with him—but deep down he knew that his fear was irrational. His father would probably just think Gerard was someone Frank looked up to—like a real older brother. 

“I even got her these little sweaters, you know? For when it’s cold out. She really likes them,” Frank said. There was a pause as his father said something to him, and Frank let out a disheartened sound. “I know… But they’re really cute on her. I got her little red plaid one—like you see on Scottie dogs in cartoons… I know… But she looks cute in them…”

Gerard sighed softly, hating the way Frank was starting to sound sad as his father no doubt told him what Mikey and Don kept saying—that Zoe was a dog, she didn’t need a sweater to stay warm. 

“Yeah. I told you I liked the coat—it’s really nice. Mom really likes it too—well, Donna, my foster mom. Not Momma… No… No, I don’t see Momma… Grandma writes sometimes… No, I don’t want to go see her. She’s…she’s not very nice to me.”

Gerard felt bad for listening in, but the more upset Frank began to sound, the more Gerard wanted to reveal himself and step down into view. He didn’t want Frank to get upset remembering bad things about his mom. He wanted them to go back to being happy because they’d finally gotten to go on a date.

“She yelled at me in court… After the case was over. Mom stood up for me—Donna, I mean. Not Momma. Donna’s not scared of anybody… She is! She’s really awesome—she’s a good mom. She and Don got me a guitar for Christmas. I can’t play it yet, but it’s—No, it’s really nice! And Gerard got me a laptop.”

Frank continued to prattle on about his life with Mom (Donna, he meant; not Momma) and Zoe and Gerard. The conversation seemed to go well and ended with Frank’s father having to go to bed to be up early for his shift at work—factory work. They made plans for Frank to call him again the next week on Friday night. Gerard was happy for him—glad he had his father back, but still a bit bitter that the man had left Frank behind with his psychotic wife in the first place. If he’d been a man and had taken responsibility for his son, Frank would never have been hurt so badly or for so long. 

As soon as the call ended, Gerard slowly made his way back upstairs and made himself a cup of coffee so he wouldn’t look so suspicious when he came downstairs to rejoin Frank. When the coffee was ready and Gerard entered the room, Frank was lying on his back in Gerard’s bed, smiling as soon as he saw Gerard.

“Hi,” Frank said.

“Hey. How’d the call go?”

“Fine. He was really nice to me,” Frank said, looking so pleased with himself. He’d spent so long thinking his father hated him and that he’d left because he hated Frank as much as his mother did. Now he knew that wasn’t true. His dad was just a fuck-up who abandoned his child with a mad woman. 

“Why wouldn’t he be nice to you? You’re perfect,” Gerard said, setting his coffee cup on his desk and crawling onto the bed overtop of Frank. He kissed him gently on the mouth, but Frank wrapped his arms around his back and held onto him—kissing him deeply. Gerard moaned and dropped his hips down against Frank’s, grinning as Frank started subtly rutting against him. “We should wait until Ma goes to bed,” Gerard said. 

Frank shook his head, not speaking, and stole another kiss. 

Gerard knew right away what the boy wanted. It wasn’t their usual handjobs and blowjobs he was after. Gerard had given him a taste of the real thing and now Frank wanted more. The thought that he’d finally gotten Frank to accept that sex could be something other than sin—many things other than sin—was enough to get Gerard going. If only he were in the mood to be topped…

If only he could think of a way to turn Frank down that wouldn’t crush him. He wasn’t opposed to sex at all, he just didn’t feel up to being the submissive one. 

But Frank was getting so excited… He was trying to rub Gerard’s hips the way Gerard did for him—trying to imitate everything Gerard had ever done to get him in the mood from kissing his neck to nipping at his ears and jaw. 

How was he supposed to turn him down?

“Do you want to play with the beads tonight?” Gerard asked.

“No,” Frank said quickly, shaking his head and going for another kiss. 

“No?”

“No,” Frank said, a lot meeker this time as he lost his confidence. He could tell Gerard didn’t want to and it was an immediately blow to his ego. He stopped kissing and let his arms fall to the side. He lowered his eyes as well and started rolling onto his side, giving up on getting any affection at all. 

It hurt to see his mood shift so fast and Gerard leaned down to press kiss after kiss onto his cheek. 

“Baby?”

“It’s fine,” Frank whispered. He’d never pouted over sex before, but then again, Gerard had never refused him anything when they were in bed together. 

“Did you want to be on top again, Baby?” Gerard asked, not really in the mood for it, but willing to do it if it meant Frank would stop looking so upset. 

“I’m not good at it,” Frank mumbled. 

“You’re perfect, Baby.” 

“I suck,” Frank said.

“Stop pouting,” Gerard said, keeping his tone playful as he started to kiss and nip Frank’s neck, worrying the skin until Frank finally moaned and rolled over onto his back again. 

“Do you not…want me to—”

“Mm, I’m just not in the mood to bottom tonight. We can do other stuff—”

“What did I do wrong?” Frank asked, searching Gerard’s face.

“Nothing, Baby. I’m just…having fun being on top. I like making you feel good.” He left out the ‘I like being in control part.’ “If you don’t want to use the beads, we can use a different toy. We’ve still got the massager left to try or we could practice with the dildo.”

Frank started blushing and turned his face away. 

“Either of those sound nice, Baby?” Gerard kissed his cheek, but Frank still didn’t answer. “The massager feels really good. Gets your prostate from the inside and out,” he said, trying to coax a response besides furious blushing. “The dildo can get you ready for me though… Get you used to taking bigger things. Longer things. Hm?” 

Frank sighed and bit his lip. 

“C-Can we try that one?” Frank asked, looking conflicted.

“You want to?”

“I-I guess,” Frank said. “I want to…to eventually be able to go…all the way.” He was blushing so hard and Gerard couldn’t help but smile at him. 

“I’ll go get it,” he said, getting up from the bed and going over to his little hidden box of toys. He turned off the overhead light and switched on the desk lamp so the room was less bright, knowing Frank didn’t like being seen that much even if he’d gotten used to it. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank whimpered as the toy was pushed inside another few inches, his legs starting to tremble. It didn’t exactly hurt, but it didn’t exactly feel nice either. It was different and strange, and he felt like there was so much pressure riding on how well he took it since Gerard said this was as close to the real thing as he could practice with. 

He tried his best just to lie still and take it, let Gerard press it in deeper and deeper until—finally—he said it was in all the way and leaned up for a kiss. 

“You’re doing so good,” Gerard whispered. “Does it feel okay?”

“Yeah,” Frank said, not wanting to admit that it didn’t feel that good at all. It was uncomfortable and felt like nothing.

“If it starts to hurt, just tell me. It might need more lube, okay?”

“Kay,” Frank whispered, closing his eyes as Gerard pulled the toy out a little bit. He slowly pressed it back inside, then started a slow, steady rhythm, pulling it out a little more each time until he had pulled it back to the very tip each time. 

It was then that Gerard started changing the angle, keeping the thrusts shallow as he sought out Frank’s prostate. Frank felt his tension rising as he waited for it, knowing that at any second Gerard was going to find his target. 

As soon as the head struck against his prostate, Frank’s hips jerked and he let out a choked gasp. He heard Gerard coo at him and started blushing in embarrassment before the pressure inside him returned as Gerard repeatedly pressed the tip of the dildo to his prostate. At first, he only pressed the toy in far enough to strike that spot, then he started thrusting it in farther and farther, moving his wrist faster than Frank thought possible.

The feeling went from not good, not bad to unbelievably pleasurable in a matter of seconds. Frank felt his cock twitch against his stomach and whined softly, hoping Gerard would touch him. It became apparent, however, that Gerard had no intention of stroking him or sucking him. He was watching Frank’s face, smirking when their eyes briefly met before Frank threw his head back against the pillow and tried to hold back a moan. 

Don and Donna were both still awake and upstairs. He didn’t want to alert them—he didn’t want them to interrupt. 

Trying not to think about it, Frank lifted his hand and slowly wrapped it around his own length—gasping as soon as the contact was made. His whole body felt hypersensitive—Gerard’s soft sheets even feeling rough against his back. 

“That’s it, Baby. Do it just like that. Doesn’t the feel good?”

“Y-Yeah,” Frank breathed, trying to stroke himself in time with the motions of the toy. 

He felt himself starting to get close, barely able to bite back his moans—even when he pulled his pillow out from under head and put it over his facet to stifle the sound. 

“Aw, Baby. Don’t do that. Come on. I want to see your face.”

Frank moaned at Gerard’s sinful words and pushed the pillow aside, panting as he started stroking himself a little faster, his hips bucking as the pleasure mounted even more. 

He closed his eyes tightly, his breaths coming a little sharper and faster as the euphoric sensations overcame him. For a moment, he pretended the hard object slipping in and out of him was Gerard—that this was his first time and he was losing his virginity. He imagined Gerard was getting pleasure, too. In his head, he could hear Gerard’s moans, like the ones he’d let out when he let Frank be on top.

Frank let out a shrill gasp, unable to hold it back. His muscles started to spasm, tightening around the toy as Gerard pressed it hard against his sweet spot, keeping that pressure until Frank’s whole body went rigid as he came—bright lights flashing behind his eyes as he momentarily lost the ability to breathe. Gerard continued rocking the toy back and forth as Frank started coming down from his orgasm, only beginning to ease it out when Frank’s hole stopped clenching around it. 

As soon as Gerard had taken it out, Frank sighed—his whole body going lax as he readjusted to the feeling of being empty. 

Gerard crawled over top of him, setting the toy aside on his nightstand, and started kissing him deeply on the mouth, moaning as their tongues met. Frank was desperate for air, but he tried to fight it—not wanting to be the first to break the kiss. 

“You were so fucking hot tonight,” Gerard moaned, kissing Frank’s neck as the boy panted for air. “I can’t wait to go all the way. You’re doing so good. I’m so proud of you, Baby.”

Frank could only moan in response, still too blissed out to form words. He wanted a hug, but having Gerard kiss and suck his neck was nice too. 

“Will you blow me? I want you so bad,” Gerard breathed, kissing Frank’s ear. 

“O-okay,” Frank stammered, starting to sit up. The motions caused a sharp sting to travel up his spine, but he tried to ignore it for Gerard’s sake. 

Gerard was already on his knees on the bed, hurriedly unbuckling his belt and pulling down his zipper. Frank watched him, trying to slow his breathing before they moved forward. He wanted this—it was sin, but he wanted it so bad. He wanted to show Gerard how much he meant to him. He wanted to show Gerard that he could reciprocate. 

As soon as Gerard exposed himself, Frank ducked down and wrapped his lips around the head of his cock. He sucked gently while folding his hand around the base, pumping it a little the way Gerard had taught him—and looking up just long enough to make eye contact before doing what was comfortable for himself. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” Gerard moaned softly, tangling his fingers in Frank’s hair and pulling his head forward a little further. 

Frank was able to take an inch more than he usually could, but it was a stretch and he felt on the edge of gagging as the taste of Gerard’s precum flooded his mouth. He let Gerard guide his head back and forth, sucking hard and doing little tricks with his tongue to make Gerard mewl. 

He opened his eyes and looked up at Gerard again, moaning when he took in the sight of Gerard’s face—his wet mouth hanging open as he choked on his moans, his hair hanging in his face, sticking to his skin. 

Frank swirled his tongue around the head, then dragged it against the slit. He felt the hot precum pooling on his tongue and swallowed hard, not fond of the taste but willing to accept it if it came from Gerard. He would accept anything from Gerard. He loved him so much.

No one made him feel this way—no one else ever could. 

Gerard didn’t last long, and as soon as he was close he started stroking Frank’s hair instead of gripping it. His motions were desperate, as though he were treating Frank well by petting him in hopes that Frank would suck him better. Only Frank was already doing the best he could.

When Gerard came, he yanked Frank forward—forcing another inch deeper into Frank’s mouth as his seed shot into the back of the boy’s throat. Frank’s eyes went wide and he whimpered slightly as he was forced to swallow what Gerard gave him. His only option was to swallow or choke. 

As soon as Gerard let him go, Frank pulled back and gagged, blinking the tears from his eyes.

“Sorry, Baby. It felt so good.”

“It’s okay,” Frank panted, swallowing hard as he regained his composure, shaking just as little as Gerard started moving closer to him, making him lie back on the bed before kissing him. He moaned then, as if tasting himself on Frank’s lips was pleasant.

“I love you so much. So fucking much. You don’t even have a fucking clue,” Gerard said, his voice strained and heavy as he kissed Frank’s mouth and neck—whatever part of his face he could reach. 

“I love you too,” Frank said, swallowing hard to combat his sore throat. 

He let Gerard lie on top of him for a moment, struggling to breathe under his weight but loving the closeness too much to complain. 

“You’re so perfect. I can’t believe how fucking perfect you are.”

Frank smiled and nuzzled Gerard’s neck. He didn’t feel bad. For once, he didn’t feel bad. He was loved here, cherished—appreciated. He felt safe and warm, not used and far from cheap. 

“I love you so much,” Gerard repeated, his voice a heavy sigh. “So fucking much…”

Frank kept smiling and closed his eyes. He wished they could sleep like this. He wished he could breathe well enough to sleep underneath Gerard and stay as close as possible. 

As close as humanly possible.


	54. Chapter 54

_Chapter 54_

It was Frank’s last day before school was supposed to start again, so Gerard decided to take him out on one final date before he had to return to his old sleep schedule. No more staying up until five in the morning, talking and kissing or messing around. Frank would have to be in bed by eleven and asleep before midnight if he was to be rested for the next day. Not to mention, Gerard would have to start going to bed early so he could cuddle Frank to sleep. He always felt strange when Frank was going to bed if he wasn’t beside him. Then, once Frank was asleep, Gerard couldn’t be bothered to get back up, even if he wasn’t tired. 

Gerard had gotten them tickets to a new horror movie. It didn’t look very good, but it was better than the action movies Frank had no interest in or the romantic comedies Gerard couldn’t stand. As long as he was spending time with Frank—and got to snuggle up to Frank in the dark—he was content. Frank was just happy to go out with Gerard again, enjoying the extra attention. He liked dates, especially now that their parents knew about their relationship so he didn’t have to feel guilty. 

He didn’t have much money, so they shared a small popcorn and soda as they cuddled up in the theatre. The movie hadn’t even started yet, but Frank had his knees up to his chest and was leaning against Gerard’s shoulder, munching on the popcorn and popping the occasional piece into Gerard’s mouth for him. Gerard put his arm around Frank’s shoulders and squeezed, pulling Frank even closer. Frank sighed happily, even though the plastic arm rest between their chairs had to be cutting into his ribs 

“I stayed up late once and watched a really weird movie at my grandma’s once,” Frank said, looking at Gerard instead of the screen which was still playing previews. 

“Oh yeah?” Gerard asked, fearful of where this story would end. Probably with Frank getting whipped. That was how most of his stories ended, at least. 

“It was about rabid birds or something.”

“Are you talking about _The Birds?_ Like, Alfred Hitchcock?”

“I don’t know. All these black birds started attacking people and pecking their eyes out. I spent most of the time wishing one would come to Grandma’s and peck her eyes out.”

Gerard laughed a little and nodded. He’d never met the woman, but from the stories he’d heard from Frank and his mother both—after his mom had met her at the trial—Gerard couldn’t blame him. 

“Well, hopefully you don’t ever feel that way toward me,” Gerard said, kissing the top of Frank’s head. Frank pulled away in order to get a kiss on the mouth and smiled. 

“I think you’re safe—as long as you don’t fall asleep on my arm again.”

“I told you, you could’ve woken me up. I wouldn’t have cared.”

“Yeah, but you were talking in your sleep and it was cute.”

“I don’t talk in my sleep,” Gerard said, blushing and looking away. 

“Yes you do! You talked to me,” Frank said, giggling and bouncing a little in his seat. 

“Shh. No I didn’t.”

“Yeah you did! I asked what you were talking about because you mumble and you said something like ‘gotta get the dog.’ And you told me Zoe got her sweater wet and was getting snow all over the house,” Frank said, laughing so loudly one of the other people in the theatre shushed him even though the movie hadn’t started yet.

“I was not dreaming about Zoe,” Gerard said, shaking his head.

“Yes you were. You kept mumbling about it!”

“Did not.”

“Did too!”

Gerard turned and grabbed Frank by the chin, making the boy look him in the eye. Frank was grinning, his eyes bright.

“No,” Gerard said firmly, trying to make his face stern before a smile broke through and he leaned in to kiss Frank on the mouth. Frank kissed him back happily, adding tongue and even moaning a little bit. 

Gerard hummed and put his hand on the back of Frank’s head, stroking his hair and keeping him in place as their tongues swirled together. Frank put his hand on Gerard’s knee and started rubbing it, cooing as though proud of himself for making a move. If only they were back at home in their bed so Gerard could reciprocate.

He really hoped now that Frank would want to go to bed early—maybe tell their mom he was tired and really wanted to rest up for tomorrow, his first day back at school. 

Finally, the movie started and Frank hunkered back down in his seat, holding onto the hand Gerard had draped over his shoulder, kissing it every now and then as the opening credits rolled. As the movie progressed, Frank started nestling closer and closer to Gerard’s side, squeezing Gerard’s hand at each and every jump scare and stuffing his mouth full of popcorn when the suspense started to rise. 

Gerard kissed is cheek and snuggled him in return, laughing a little whenever Frank would let out a tiny noise of fear at the jump scares. Frank didn’t appreciate being laughed at, but instead of vocalizing his displeasure, he just threw pierces of popcorn at Gerard’s face until he got a kiss—ending the mocking laughter.

After the movie was over, Frank insisted Gerard keep his arm around him as they walked out of the theatre. Gerard noticed a few sideways glances from other people they passed, but Frank walked with half his face buried in Gerard’s side and didn’t seem to notice anything. If he sensed the stares they were getting, it didn’t bother him. When he was with Gerard, he was untouchable. 

“So, do you wanna head home or go out for some coffee?” Gerard asked as they got back in the car. “I could really do with some coffee.”

“Can I get one of those latte things you bought me last time?” Frank asked, fastening his seatbelt and looking over at Gerard, still grinning ear-to-ear. 

“Yeah—you can get anything you want,” Gerard said, leaning over and getting a quick kiss before starting the car and backing out of the parking space. The whole time he drove, Frank kept his hand on Gerard’s knee, stroking it with his thumb. It was as if he couldn’t bear to keep his hands to himself. 

Instead of just going to the café, Gerard took Frank to the bookstore instead. It had a coffee shop inside with a similar menu and also offered a soy option. So, after he had his large coffee and Frank had his large, hazelnut, soy latte, they wandered through the store together. Frank stayed close, but he didn’t hold hands this time. There were a lot of older people in the store and while Frank could be confident around people his own age, but when it came to adults and the elderly, he was very cautious of offending them. 

In the comic books aisle, Frank did lean his head against Gerard’s shoulder though, watching the pages Gerard flipped through. He asked a lot of questions about each of the books as if he really thought Gerard were some kind of an expert about every book in the shop. Gerard had a lot to say about the Marvel comics and super heroes, but when he picked up new books, it was hard to tell Frank he didn’t know anything about it. His tone always seemed to come out irritated and Frank would pull away just a little bit more. Though he never stopped asking his questions, desperate—maybe—to hold more of Gerard’s attention than the books, or maybe he just wanted to know as much as he believed Gerard did about the comics. 

After Gerard finally pried himself away from the comics (because he couldn’t afford all the ones he wanted, but if he stared long enough he started to think he could), he let Frank lead him around the store for a bit. Every now and then Frank would get award and self-conscious—asking Gerard if he wanted to leave, worrying that he was keeping Gerard in the store longer than he wanted to be—but Gerard just reassured him and kissed the top of his head quickly. It was enough to get Frank comfortable enough to flip through cds with him at the back of the store. 

Once again, Frank started asking a bunch of questions—did Gerard know this band? did he like it? what did it sounds like? were they rock?

“You know, Baby, I don’t know everything about everything,” Gerard said, kissing the top of Frank’s head again so the boy would know he wasn’t mad. 

Frank flipped through the cds quietly after that, seeming a little less confident despite the kiss. Gerard rubbed his back and kissed the top of his head again, trying to comfort him without starting a speech about Frank not needing to feel so bad.

“Gerard?” The voice startled him so much that Gerard flinched, turning away from Frank to look behind him. Frank turned as well, curious to see who had spoken. 

His eyes widened in shock when he landed eyes on the man behind him—Ben.

“H-hey. Wh-what are you doing here? I thought you moved back to Maine,” Gerard stammered, hardly able to form a coherent thought as he stared at his ex-boyfriend. One of his first serious boyfriends. One he’d actually liked and wanted to stay with for more than a week or two for cheap companionship and free sex. 

“I did, yeah—but my mom’s been in and out of the hospital so I came home to check up on her,” Ben said, scratching the back of his head nervously as he offered Gerard a shy smile. 

“Oh… I’m—yeah, I’m sorry to hear that,” Gerard said, swallowing hard. 

“She…She should be fine though,” Ben said, shrugging and shaking his head. “So—So what have you been up to? How have you been?”

“I… I’ve been… Yeah, I’ve been fine,” Gerard said, looking down at Frank seemed to know immediately what was going on. He was looking at Gerard expectantly—not at all appearing innocent or shy about it. This was Gerard’s ex and Frank knew it, and he was getting pissed off that Gerard had yet to introduce him. As though he felt Gerard should’ve started out the conversation by saying “Hey, I’ve been great. This is my underage boyfriend, Frank.”

“Great, um… That’s—That’s awesome. Are you…home for break or—”

“No, I—I dropped out. I work as an asset protection officer for a—a national chain store.”

“You work for a dollar store. Don’t try to dress it up,” Frank muttered.

Gerard looked down at him in time to see Frank looking irritated and a bit hurt. 

Ben laughed a bit at the comment and turned his attention to Frank. 

“So, who’s this? He’s…he’s not your brother,” he said, furrowing his brow a little as he (probably) struggled to recall a memory of Mikey. He’d only met Gerard’s family once or twice.

“No. Mikey stayed home,” Gerard said, not sure why his first instinct was to avoid the topic. It wasn’t because of Frank’s age either. He just didn’t want to introduce the one ex who had _really_ busted his heart to Frank. “This—this is Frank. My boyfriend.” He had to resist the urge to pause mid-phrase, knowing if he hesitated that Frank would be hurt. 

“Oh!” Ben’s face widened in shock and he looked Frank over again before turning back to Gerard. “Your—your _boyfriend!_ Wow.”

“Y-yeah, he’s—”

“Young!” Ben exclaimed, grinning though a look of confusion and mortification. He could tell Frank was underage. He could tell it was different from Gerard who almost always dated older men. “Wow, Gerard. I thought you always went for older guys.”

“Yeah, well—”

“Just because you can’t get somebody young to like you, doesn’t mean Gerard can’t,” Frank snapped. 

The words left Gerard in shock, so unlike Frank he could hardly believe they came from the boy. Ben looked equally surprised, his mouth hanging open not unlike Gerard’s. 

“Is…is that right?” Ben stammered, looking at Gerard who couldn’t even react. Of all the things he thought Frank capable of, this wasn’t one. Frank had never been jealous before, never possessive to the point of breaking his shy, innocent cover in favor of being rude and snippy. 

“Yes,” Frank said. He locked eyes with Ben then, not exactly scowling but looking less than pleased. He had the same look on his face that his _mother_ got when she had been about to turn on him in the Spend N Save. 

“Well, I’m---I’m happy for you, man,” Ben said, looking back at Gerard again and planning his escape. “Um… Are you—are you on, like, Facebook or anything? We could…catch up.”

“Uh—yeah, I—” Gerard looked over at Frank who was staring at him with stern disappointment. “No, I’m…I’m not on social media. I don’t really have…any friends. I mean, other than Frank.”

“Right,” Ben said, grimacing a little and passing a sideways glance to Frank whose glare only darkened. “So your old phone number, it—”

“I-I got rid of that phone.”

“You’re not getting his number,” Frank barked. “Why would he want to talk to you?”

Gerard took a nervous sip of his coffee and passed a glance between Frank and Ben. Frank was starting to look a bit smug—the same expression he would get whenever Donna would stick up for him at home. Ben just looked completely taken aback. He seemed to think that, despite Frank’s presence, he could simply have Gerard back, no questions asked. Like he thought Gerard might leap at the chance to reconnect with him after having his heart ripped out all those years ago. 

“Okay… So… I-I guess it was nice seeing you,” Ben said, still waiting for Gerard to tell Frank off or take out his phone and ask for Ben’s number. 

“Yeah. See you…around,” Gerard said, watching as Ben walked away and disappeared into the rows of shelving. With Ben gone, he now had to turn his attention to Frank. Frank who was glaring at him. “Well, that was my ex.”

“I got that much,” Frank said bitterly. 

“I wasn’t going to give him my number,” Gerard said defensively. He didn’t like the way Frank was staring at him, as if he really thought Gerard would let another guy ask him out while Frank was standing right there—or _ever,_ whether Frank was with him or not. 

“Are you sure? You were staring at him like you wanted to eat him,” Frank muttered, pretending to go back to looking at the cds when it was obvious that he was too angry to focus. 

“Frank,” Gerard said, his tone gentle and nurturing. Had he missed Ben? Yes. Had there been times he wished he could have Ben back? Hell yes. If he hadn’t been with Frank as a couple and Ben had still asked him out, would he have crawled back to him like a pathetic hack? Yes…. Regrettably, yes. And his heart probably would’ve been broken again. Ben was a flake. Had always been a flake. He cancelled dates at the last minute, left Gerard waiting and just never showed up…

Frank would never do that. If Frank lived on his own and they made plans to meet up, Frank was the type of boyfriend who would be there early—or spend all day waiting. He cared about Gerard too much to let him down. 

“Baby,” Gerard said when Frank still wouldn’t look at him. 

“What?”

“I wasn’t going to give him my number. What do I need him for, huh? I’ve got you.” He whispered the words into Frank’s ear, shamelessly hugging him from behind while holding onto his coffee and balancing his comic books under one arm. Frank sighed and relaxed against him. 

“Did you like him as much as you like me?” Frank mumbled.

“What are you talking about?” Gerard cooed, kissing Frank’s cheek even though an old woman on the other side of the rack was now watching them and shaking her head.

“When you date him…did you like him as much as you like me now?”

“Baby, I’ve never liked anyone as much as I love you,” Gerard whispered, nuzzling Frank’s ear until the boy shuddered in his grasp. It was corny and cheesy, but it did the trick. Frank hummed and started smiling again, albeit a smug little grin. 

Despite that smirk and Frank’s shift in attitude being a small bit of a wakeup call to Gerard, nothing prepared him for what Frank said next. 

“You wanna…prove that to me?” Frank asked, turning his head to look back at Gerard. 

“What do you mean?” Gerard asked, letting Frank go so the boy could turn to face him. 

“When we get home. Do you want to prove it?—That you love me?” He didn’t even look shy about it. His eyes were bright, and for a moment Gerard couldn’t even speak so he just nodded. 

Prove it? He was going to prove it any way he could.

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard had Frank in his lap in no time at all, holding onto the boy’s hips as Frank kissed and licked at his mouth. He’d told Donna he was going to bed early so he could be rested for school in the morning, but Gerard knew right away that their mother didn’t believe him. Once Frank’s back was turned, she rolled her eyes and passed Gerard a cold scowl. Mikey, too, grunted in disgust. Don…he just ignored the whole exchange as if Frank didn’t exist. 

Frank had to shoo Zoe out of their room after she followed them downstairs, an action that Gerard regretted to admit was an obvious tell that they weren’t at all sleeping, but as soon as she was gone, Frank had climbed into Gerard’s bed with no intent to leave. 

In no time at all, Gerard had pulled off Frank’s shirt—struggling, of course, to get the sleeve off his damned cast. Gerard would be so pleased the day the thing was cut off, even if he would be sorry to see his artwork leave Frank’s daily attire. Maybe he’d just have to start drawing on Frank’s skin every day before he left for school, then forbid him from washing it off for a couple days. He bet he could get Frank to go along with it, too—especially if he could get Frank to go along with _this._

Usually it took a little more effort to get Frank to slip off his jeans, but today Frank was taking them off without any prompting. Gerard knew a lot of Frank’s drive was coming from his jealousy—his possessiveness. Seeing another man trying to encroach upon his time with Gerard set him off. He wanted Gerard all to himself. He was willing to step outside his usual demeanor, willing to act in ways he usually would never act, so long as he could have all of Gerard’s attention to himself. 

It was a turn on. It was such a fucking turn on.

Instead of getting self-conscious and crying the way Frank _always_ did when he felt slighted, this time he was fighting for what he wanted—even though he’d already won. 

While Frank was stepping out of his jeans and stripping off his socks, Gerard pulled off his own shirt and started unbuckling his belt. He couldn’t help but smile as he watched Frank struggle to keep his balance while taking off his sock—he was sexy, but he was cute as fuck as well. 

Once his clothes were off, save for his boxers, Frank crawled back onto Gerard’s bed and laid down on his stomach. Posing just a little with his head propped up as he watched Gerard undress—his eyes dark with lust. 

There had obviously been times in the past when Frank came to him, needy and desperate—wanting touched, wanting to mess around—but Gerard had never seen him look like this before. He was hardly even blushing. He wasn’t ashamed tonight. 

When Gerard got down to his boxers as well, he climbed onto the bed beside Frank and rolled him over onto his back. Again, he pulled the boy into a deep kiss, hardly giving him enough time to breathe. He put one of his knees between Frank’s thighs and smirked into their kiss when Frank immediately started rutting against him. 

Gerard slid one hand between their bodies and tucked it into the front of Frank’s boxers, cupping him and giving Frank something a little better to grind against. He didn’t move his hand though—he made Frank do the work and relished in the disappointed, needy sounds his boyfriend was making. 

“What am I gonna do with you?” Gerard asked, purring into Frank’s ear. “Hm?” He moved to lick Frank’s throat, smiling as the boy gasped. 

“G-Good things, I hope,” Frank moaned in response, a tremor going down his spine as Gerard finally began stroking him. 

“Good things? Mm, I think I can do a few good things to you,” Gerard said, kissing his way up Frank’s jaw to his mouth. “Maybe we’ll play with the beads, huh?”

“Don’t want them,” Frank grunted, rolling his hips and tossing his head back on the pillow. 

“Then what do you want?” Gerard asked, chuckling as he pulled his hand away, making Frank gasp. He expected Frank to say he wanted on top again. He’d seen someone else who wanted to take his boyfriend away from him, and now he’d want to make sure Gerard knew his place.

But that wasn’t what Frank said.

“Want to—Want to go all the way. I love you.” Frank didn’t give Gerard a chance to reply. He leaned up for another kiss, much more desperate than before, and wrapped both his arms around Gerard’s chest to keep him pinned. 

“You want to go all the way?” Gerard asked when Frank finally broke away to breathe. The boy nodded and started kissing Gerard’s neck, panting heavily in between each wet kiss. “You sure, Baby?”

“Yeah,” Frank whispered, rolling his hips against the hand Gerard still had down the front of his boxers. 

It shocked him, but in the same moment he’d been hoping this day would come soon. He’d been hoping for it long before they were in the movie theatre and Frank kept stroking his knee and thigh. He’d started praying for it after seeing how jealous he was of anyone who could steal Gerard’s attention for half a second. 

“If that’s what you want, Baby, I think you’ve earned it,” Gerard said, stroking Frank’s length a few more times before breaking their kiss and embrace in order to fetch the condoms and lubricant. He contemplated bringing over a toy, just a little extra something to help Frank get ready, but decided against it at the last moment. He wanted to be the only thing giving Frank pleasure tonight. He wanted Frank to come undone because of him—just him. 

He set the bottle of lube and the condom on the nightstand beside his bed and then crawled back over top Frank who was watching him intently. His breaths had become shaky and Gerard could tell he was nervous, but his eyes were still dark with lust. Frank bit his lip as Gerard started tugging down his boxers, but willingly spread his legs to make it easier. He even left them spread once Gerard had tossed the article of clothing away, inviting Gerard to crawl between them again. 

Gerard leaned down for another kiss, wanting to make sure things went slow even though his body wanted him to pull his own boxers down and ravage the boy. Frank needed to feel safe; he needed to feel _loved_ above all else. If he started to feel cheap or used, Gerard doubted Frank would ever let him close again, not even to pick up the pieces of his shattered self-worth. 

Frank wrapped his legs around Gerard’s waist and his arms around his shoulders, holding on tight as they kissed. He was trying hard to make them into one body—trying to get as close as he could. 

With their mouths still pressed together, Gerard reached over to the nightstand and fumbled to find the bottle of lube. Once it was in his hand, he had to pull himself away from Frank’s tight grip in order to open it and slick up his fingers. He was generous with it, pouring a little extra onto his fingertips to spread around Frank’s hole.

As soon as he touched it, Frank flinched and bit his lip. 

“It’s okay,” Gerard said, slowly circling Frank’s hole with his fingers until he stopped twitching and flinching away. After a moment he had Frank moaning softly again and Gerard slowly started pressing a finger inside. 

Frank sighed softly, used to the feeling, and let his head tip back, relaxing himself the way Gerard had spent so long teaching him. In no time at all, Gerard had added a second finger, getting a moan from Frank instead of a whimper or hiss of pain. Gerard started to slowly pump his fingers in and out, twisting them and curling them—only occasionally rubbing against Frank’s prostate, just enough to tease him and keep his interest for what was to come. 

When it came time to add a third finger, Gerard lowered his head and licked one of Frank’s nipples. Frank gasped and arched into the touch, moaning as Gerard started swirling his tongue around the hardening bud. He waited until he had Frank squirming before pressing the third finger inside. 

His boyfriend hissed in pain, but only for a moment—too distracted by the feelings of Gerard’s tongue on his chest to dwell on the sharp sting.

Gerard paused a moment to let Frank adjust—and to focus more attention on his sensitive chest—then started moving them in and out. When Frank kept hissing, Gerard leaned back and grabbed the bottle of lube with his free hand. He pulled his fingers most of the way out poured more of the oil onto them. He eased them back in much easier and Frank sighed softly, getting used to the feeling. 

He made sure to keep the movements slow, focusing more on opening him up than teasing him. Though he, of course, pressed against his prostate a couple of times—just to keep things interesting for Frank who had his eyes squeezed shut in intense concentration, as if trying to will the pain out of the touches.

It still took him a while to relax, but Frank was trying hard to keep his muscles relaxed—knowing there was more at stake this time than not being able to comfortably fit some toy. Frank _wanted_ this. He wasn’t just shyly going along with whatever Gerard said. He _wanted_ it. He’d asked for it.

“Do you think you’re ready?” Gerard asked when he was able to slide his fingers all of the way inside without getting any more than a moan.

“Y-Yeah,” Frank whispered, his face flushed as he slowly opened his eyes. He winced as Gerard pulled his fingers away, crossing his knees a bit as Gerard moved to grab the condom and open it. 

Gerard was embarrassed to admit he was shaking, so exciting and nervous that this was _actually_ happening. He had won all of Frank’s trust. He had earned his love and his commitment, and somehow—somehow!—he was about to be the first person Frank let have him. He was so scared he’d do something wrong and end it all prematurely. He didn’t want Frank to cry his first time. He didn’t want the boy to get scared or feel threatened. 

After rolling on the condom and slicking himself with lube, Gerard leaned down for a kiss, smiling when Frank readily spread his legs to accommodate him. Frank wrapped his arms around Gerard’s shoulders again, holding him in place as he deepened the kiss—moaning and rolling his hips against Gerard’s.

He wasn’t second-guessing it. He wasn’t backing down.

This was happening. Gerard couldn’t fucking believe that this was happening. 

It took a little effort to break away from Frank’s kiss, but once he was free, Gerard slicked up his fingers again, wanting to make _sure_ that Frank was ready. He fit two fingers back inside easily, but Frank whimpered again at the addition of the third. He squirmed his hips away at first, but took a few deep breaths and made himself relax without any coaching. 

Gerard worked his fingers in and out a few more times, then slowly pulled them out and lined himself up.

Frank chewed his lip and started breathing heavily, bracing for what came next. 

“Just relax, okay? I’ll go slow. If it hurts, just tell me, okay?”

“Okay,” Frank whispered, opening his eyes just a bit and staring up at Gerard. He looked nervous too, but his face was still flushed with pleasure. 

Before pressing in, Gerard added a bit more lubricant to his hand and stroked himself a few times. Frank gasped as soon as the tip pressed against his opening and Gerard hesitated, waiting for the sudden look of fear to leave Frank’s face. It took a moment, and only left once Frank nervously started touching himself again, chewing his lip a little more. 

Gerard swore he could see red blood on Frank’s mouth from how much he had been biting and sucking his lips.

As soon as Frank looked a little more relaxed, Gerard pressed forward. Frank gasped, and closed his eyes again. Gerard pushed forward a little more, slowly easing his way in until Frank’s hole clenched around the tip. 

Frank’s eyes snapped open then and he stared past Gerard at the ceiling, his breaths choked off as the sudden spark of pain alarmed him. 

“It’s okay,” Gerard whispered, running his free hand down Frank’s side in an effort to comfort him. Frank had stopped stroking himself when the pain stopped, but started twitching his hand a little more as he fought to relax himself. “It’ll stop hurting, I promise. Just like with our toys. It always stops hurting, right?”

“Yeah,” Frank whimpered, as though it were the only word he knew. 

“Just tell me if it gets to be too much. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Frank nodded and closed his eyes again, waiting for Gerard to move. As soon as he did, Frank let out a sharp hiss and bit his lip again. He was able to press in another inch or so before Frank gasped and opened his eyes again, looking fearful and pained. 

“It’s okay,” Gerard whispered, freezing and leaning down to give Frank a gentle kiss on the mouth. The kiss soothed him instantly. He kept his lips pressed against Gerard’s desperately, more affectionate than lustful. Gerard stayed still as long as Frank needed him, resisting the impulses that told him to keep pressing forward, to start pounding into the tight heat. Every now and then, Frank would clench around him and gasp into their kiss. 

Slowly, Frank relaxed again and Gerard was able to push in all the way—moaning as soon as he was buried to the hilt. He couldn’t help but smile even though, under him, Frank was whimpering helplessly. He didn’t sound very pleased, but Gerard couldn’t get over the fact that this was real. He had hoped this would happen, prayed for it, but didn’t ever imagine it could happen so soon. Eventually, but not now—not this fast. 

And, deep down, Gerard knew the only thing that caused this night to happen was that Ben had approached him and Frank had gotten jealous. Frank wanted to prove his worth and show Gerard he was good enough to be his boyfriend—worthy of his time and able to meet all of his needs just like Ben. Frank wanted to be better than Ben. 

The poor thing didn’t realize he didn’t even have to try. He was better—so much better—in every single way possible. Frank was good. Frank was pure. Frank was _perfect._

So fucking perfect. 

Gerard pulled back just a little and pushed back in slowly, warming Frank up to the sensation before taking it further. Frank whimpered a little and squirmed around, hissing when his movements pulled Gerard back in deeper. 

“Are you okay?”

“It hurts,” Frank whispered, his voice strained. 

“I know. It’ll stop. I promise. Are you okay?”

“It hurts,” Frank repeated. 

Gerard began to feel a little disheartened, worried that Frank was going to ask him to stop. He would if Frank asked—he wouldn’t even push for anything else for the night—but he didn’t want to. He wanted this so bad. He _needed_ it. He’d been so good to Frank for so long—he _deserved_ this. 

“Do you need me to stop?” Gerard asked, leaning down and kissing Frank on the cheek.

Frank shook his head no started stroking himself again. Gerard waited a moment before pulling back farther than first time and then pushing back in almost right away. A tremor ran down his spine at the pleasure as Frank let out a little, shaky moan. 

“Do you feel okay?” Gerard asked.

Frank nodded, but didn’t speak, his face scrunched up in pain. 

“You can tell me if it hurts too much,” Gerard whispered. 

“It hurts,” Frank said, swallowing hard. “Does it stop?”

“Yeah, Baby, I promise. Just like with our toys. But if you need me to stop, I will. You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” Frank whispered.

“Do you want me to stop?” Gerard asked, kissing Frank’s cheek again.

“No,” Frank said, barely audible. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

Gerard kissed him again, on the mouth this time, and Frank sighed. Whenever Gerard would kiss him, he would forget his pain almost instantly. Gerard was able to start rocking his hips slowly and though Frank would whimper with each movement, he wouldn’t break the kiss. He was feeding on the affection, taking in all the love he could get to reassure himself that this was okay—that this was love, not sin. 

Before long, he was able to change his angle and after a few misplaced thrusts, struck the one place that mattered—finally getting Frank to gasp in pleasure instead of pain. They kissed a few more times, then Gerard pulled away in favor of stroking Frank’s sides and thighs. Frank rolled his hips a little and then moaned as the action caused the head of Gerard’s cock to strike his prostate. 

Frank started letting out shrill, desperate little sounds as Gerard set up a pace. He had one of his hands gripping Frank’s thigh to keep his hips angled in the right position and Frank kept stroking his own length, moaning and tossing his head back against the pillow. 

His sharp breaths started coming faster and faster as he stroked himself, and though it was hard for Gerard to look away from the boy’s pretty, bliss-stricken face, he glanced down to admire the sight of Frank pleasuring himself. He kept paying special attention to one spot on the side of his tip, stroking it with his thumb and keening at the touch. Gerard made a mental note to give that spot more attention the next time he gave Frank a blowjob. He knew that because of the attack, Frank lost feeling in some places, leaving others hyper-sensitive to even the slightest touches. Apparently that little spot on the tip was all Frank really needed because his moans were becoming louder, more frantic. 

Gerard was able to thrust a little faster without Frank even whimpering. Frank was even starting to roll his hips more and more, wanting to feel that good pressure. Before too long, his muscles started to spasm and Frank let out a loud—too loud—shrill cry, and Gerard felt the hot ropes of come spatter his stomach.

When Gerard looked up, Frank was staring at him through lidded eyes, panting and still moaning a little. Every now and then, Gerard’s movements would cause Frank’s voice to be choked off. 

With the added tightness. Gerard didn’t last much longer, and as soon as he finished, he collapsed down on Frank’s chest—holding the boy close. 

“I love you so much,” Gerard panted, nuzzling Frank’s cheek and neck—whatever he could reach with his face really. He wanted to make sure Frank stayed in the moment and didn’t get caught up in Catholic guilt and his obsession with sin. 

“Love you too,” Frank whispered, hugging Gerard tight and pressing his sweaty face into his shoulder. 

Gerard sighed and moved to roll them onto their sides so he could pull out. Frank let out a low hiss of pain as Gerard pulled away and stripped off the condom. He was only away from Frank’s side for a second, but the boy was whimpering and calling for him the whole time. When he’d turned off the light and had gotten back on the bed, Frank latched onto him and buried his face in Gerard’s chest. 

“Are you okay?” Gerard asked, kissing the top of Frank’s head.

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Mhm. Just don’t leave.”

“I’m not leaving, Baby,” Gerard said, holding Frank even tighter to prove his point, even though Frank’s rough cast was digging into his ribs. “I’m staying right here all night. Unless I have to pee… Then I’m getting up.” 

“You’d better,” Frank mumbled after a moment. “Don’t want you to pee on me…”

“I wouldn’t pee on you. Don’t worry,” Gerard said, laughing softly and snuggling Frank close. 

Frank was quiet for a long time, only making little groaning noises every now and then—no doubt in protest of the soreness that was taking over the pleasure. After a while he pulled away from Gerard just long enough to crawl under the blankets—though Gerard was still too hot to follow him—and curled up close again, his head on Gerard’s folded arm. 

Frank _always_ went to sleep on his arms, Gerard thought as he started stroking and toying with the boy’s hair. It was as though that were Frank’s way of keeping tabs on Gerard as he slept—making it so he couldn’t get up without waking him. It was the same thing as how Gerard kept his arms around Frank as he slept to make sure he didn’t sneak off to hurt himself in the night, back when he’d been making attempts every other night. 

Gerard hoped those days were over now. He really did. He knew he would have to remain loving—more affectionate and nurturing than ever—over the next few days, just to make sure Frank didn’t start to feel that he’d been used. If Frank took himself to that dark place, there would be no getting him back. 

“Baby?” Gerard whispered, watching the strands of Frank’s hair slip between his fingers. “Baby?” He repeated when Frank didn’t answer. 

“Hm?” Frank moaned, shaking his head and nestling it deeper into Gerard’s chest. 

“Are you okay?”

“I’m sleeping,” Frank mumbled, though he sounded a little bit happy to have Gerard so worried about him.

“Okay,” Gerard murmured, kissing the top of Frank’s head. “I love you, Baby.”

“Mhm,” Frank hummed. 

Gerard laughed softly and closed his eyes. He wished Frank didn’t have to go to school so early the next morning. He wished they had their own place and they could just stay in bed all day together. That was how he’d envisioned it anyway, Frank’s first time.

Maybe another weekend that their parents went out. They’d have the place virtually to themselves and he could have Frank all to himself… But this was nice too. 

Even when Zoe ran down the stairs and leapt onto the foot of the bed, Gerard still wouldn’t change it for the world.


	55. Chapter 55

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To my husband, with love. <3

_Chapter 55_

Gerard woke up at five thirty, moments before his cell phone alarm went off. Frank whimpered and clutched onto him in his sleep as Gerard pulled away to reach for his phone. As soon as it was silenced, he wrapped Frank up in his arms again and kissed the top of his head repeatedly until Frank let out a sleepy little groan. 

He wanted Frank awake so they had adequate time to cuddle before Frank had to be up for school. He knew how sensitive Frank was, and if he woke up feeling bad about what had happened, Gerard couldn’t let it stay that way. It was his responsibility to make sure Frank was okay and stayed okay, that even if he had regrets, he knew it was no big deal. Gerard wouldn’t abandon him. Gerard hadn’t used him.

“Wake up, Baby,” Gerard said, rocking Frank back and forth a bit. 

Frank whined and snuggled closer, draping his left arm over Gerard’s side and holding him in a lazy hug.

“Baby…”

“Hm…?” Frank groaned, barely awake enough to form a sound let alone a word.

“Wake up, Baby,” Gerard repeated. “Come on.” He kissed Frank’s cheek, finally making the boy open his eyes. 

“What?” Frank asked, so committed to staying asleep that he closed his eyes right away.

“No, come on. Stay awake. Frank, stay awake.”

“I don’t want to,” Frank moaned, shaking his head and burying his face in Gerard’s chest.

“You have to. You’ve got school today.”

“I don’t want to go,” Frank whined.

“You have to.”

Frank moaned again and shook his head.

“Baby….”

“I’m tired,” Frank complained.

“I can tell.”

“My _ass_ hurts,” he added, sounding so shy and awkward, even when half asleep.

“Aw. I’m sorry, baby. Is it bad?”

Frank’s answer was a long, drawn out groan. 

“It’ll stop, I promise,” Gerard said. 

Frank groaned again.

“It will…”

Frank snuggled closer and would’ve gone back to sleep if Gerard didn’t keep rocking him back and forth.

“What time is it?” Frank grunted. “I’m _tired._ ”

“Five thirty,” Gerard said.

“Five _thirty!?_ Gerard, I’m _tired!”_ Frank whined.

“I wanted to cuddle before you had to go.”

“I wanna _sleep_ before I have to go,” Frank complained.

Gerard laughed at him and held him tighter. 

He could tell by the way Frank was nuzzling him and holding him in return that he didn’t regret Gerard waking him up. Before long, Frank was stealing little kisses which steadily grew deeper and deeper until Frank was lying beside him, staring Gerard in the eyes with a sort of dazed, dreamy look—like he was looking at his idol, someone he obsessed over and crushed on. It was the same look adolescent girls had when they stared at photos of beautiful pop stars, yet Frank wore it for him.

“You’re so pretty,” Gerard whispered, reaching over to caress Frank’s cheek. 

Frank started blushing and shook his head.

“No, I’m not.”

“Yeah you are. You’ve got a pretty smile, and pretty lips,” Gerard said as he scooted closer in order to press another kiss onto Frank’s lips. 

“I don’t… I don’t want to be pretty,” Frank said, blushing hard. 

“No?”

“No… Guys shouldn’t be pretty,” he said, looking bashful.

“Mm, would you rather I call you sexy?” Gerard asked, giggling and pulling Frank back as close to his chest as he could. Frank started snuggling him again, and Gerard rolled over to lie on his back, letting Frank rest his head on his chest. 

“No,” Frank whispered, chuckling a little.

“Aw—but you’re so sexy. My sexy little baby.”

“Stop,” Frank said, giggling.

“What do you want me to call you then?” Gerard asked.

“Your boyfriend,” Frank murmured.

“I already call you that,” Gerard said, kissing the top of Frank’s head. 

Frank giggled more and held on to Gerard as tightly as he could. Gerard stayed holding him and petting his hair, kissing his head and his face whenever he could pry Frank off his chest. When six o’clock came and Frank had to get up to shower, the bed felt so much colder without him.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank, on a typical day, was a good student—except for when he was depressed or tired, at which point his spent his days with his head down on his desk—he didn’t play with his cell phone, he sat still and stayed quiet. But today he kept checking his phone under his desk and squirming in his seat (and not _just_ because it hurt to be sitting). 

Gerard was texting him, sending him hearts and smiley faces, and little words of affection. Frank couldn’t be pulled away from them for more than fifteen minutes at a time. His first, third, and fourth period teachers had all threatened to take his phone away, but so far his fifth period teacher hadn’t noticed. She’d take his phone if she did—no warnings. 

Frank didn’t want that to happen, but he needed to know what Gerard would say next. 

Would it be another “I love you, Baby” or maybe it’d be an “I miss your cute face” this time? 

Frank’s heart was beating so hard as he waited to hear what is boyfriend would have to say.

“Can’t wait to see you tonight,” Gerard said.

Frank smiled and texted a quick reply. No sooner had he hit send did he hear a low, throaty cough next to his desk. His face immediately sank and he looked up at his teacher.

“Give it here,” she said, her face stern, holding her palm out in front of Frank’s face.

“I-I’ll put it away,” Frank stammered.

_“Give it._ Now.”

Frank sighed and looked back down at the phone in his lap. He quickly backed out of his and Gerard’s messages, then darkened the screen and handed it over. His teacher typically had a penchant for reading aloud the texts her students were sending each other and Frank was mortified that she’d do it to him. If he hid the conversation, though, maybe she wouldn’t think about it. 

As soon as the phone was in her hand, she lit up the screen. Frank didn’t have a passcode on it, though he definitely would after today, and as she walked to the front of the room, she was visibly flicking through his aps. 

Frank felt dread flood his stomach and his throat tightened as he watched her face. The popular kids were all staring at him and snickering, but he couldn’t even be bothered with them now. Mrs. Lewin was looking at his messages, and he knew right away she’d found Gerard’s when her eyebrow shot up. 

She glanced at Frank, her morbidly intrigued yet disappointed stare cutting him deep.

“Wait after class, Frank,” his teacher said. Shaking her head and setting the phone down on her desk. 

Frank swallowed hard and stared at it, starting to tremble. He felt sick, close to tears even when he heard his classmates “ooo” at him in mockery. The final twenty minutes of class, he just sat there trembling and staring at the phone on Mrs. Lewin’s desk. For a while he tried to plan an escape—a way to jump up, grab his phone and run for his life—but he knew it was no good. If he so much as moved, he would feel everyone’s eyes on him and he would freeze up. 

He was trapped.

He was caught…

By the time the bell rang, Frank felt like he was about to collapse. His chest was so tight that he could barely breathe and the cramping in his ribs moved down to his stomach. He felt like he might throw up as he watched his classmates flee the room. He expected more students to immediately start flooding in—guaranteeing that his conversation with Mrs. Lewin would be public and brief—but when no one came in and the woman shut the door, Frank knew the really was no escape. 

Mrs. Lewin came over to his desk and set his phone down in front of him. The indicator light was blinking, more words of love from Gerard that had now been tainted. 

“Frank, you’re living with the Way family now. Isn’t that right?” Mrs. Lewin asked.

“Yeah,” Frank murmured, grabbing his phone and slowly slipping it into his pocket. Mrs. Lewin was ancient. She had probably been Gerard’s teacher as well. When she saw Frank was getting texts full of sickening love and insinuations about what would happen _tonight,_ she knew it was from Gerard even if he was in Frank’s phone as Gee. She knew, didn’t she? She knew and there was nothing Frank could do.

She was going to call Donna, then the cops. Then Gerard would get arrested and put in jail, and it would be all Frank’s fault. 

“So then does Donna know about this relationship you have going on?”

She knew Donna by _name!?_ Frank’s stomach gave a fierce kick and he almost gagged. She probably knew Gerard answered to “Gee” sometimes. She knew, didn’t she? He was so fucked. Gerard was going to jail and it was all his fault. 

“Frank?”

“I-It’s n-not what it l-looks like,” Frank stammered, his stomach continuing to grow tighter and tighter.

“Oh? Tell me what it looks like then, because _to me,_ it looks like you’re planning to meet in someone’s _bed_ tonight. Wasn’t that what you sent ‘Gee’?” She even added the air quotes.

Frank bit his bottom lip and lowered his head. He _hated_ himself for sending that text. Gerard had told him he couldn’t wait to see him that night, then Frank had to go and reply with “I can’t wait to see you in bed.” He meant it to sound flirty. He’d added a winking face too, just so Gerard knew he wasn’t that serious about it. Now he didn’t feel flirty or sexy—he felt cheap. He felt _exposed._ All the things he promised himself he’d never be—all the things his mother sworn he was—he’d become last night. 

Now a woman as far removed from his personal life as Mrs. Lewin knew how low and disgusting he was. 

“Sh-She’s my girlfriend,” Frank stammered, daring to look up at the older woman—trying hard to make his lie more believable. “We—We’ve been together f-for a really long t-time.”

“That doesn’t matter, Frank. First of all, it’s inappropriate to be texting in class in the first place, let alone send _explicit_ messages.”

Frank ducked his head, tears rushing him again. He started to gag, but Mrs. Lewin didn’t notice. She was too busy staring down at him like he was a piece of trash left stuck to the surface of the desk. 

His teacher stood there berating him for being unsafe, for being irresponsible, for being bad—sick, sinful, sodomite… Mrs. Lewin was on the verge of calling Donna, except Frank started to cry. She backed off then and let him leave the class room with a warning to keep his phone in his locker from now on. 

Frank tried to calm down once he stepped into the vacant hallway. It was his lunch period, but he had no appetite. He went into the bathroom and locked himself in one of the stalls. He leaned back against the door and took out his phone, deleting his last text—unable to even look at it—and then read what Gerard had sent to him.

_I’ll eat you up I love you so ;D_

Frank shook his head quickly and started typing a reply.

_My teacher took my phone. She saw the texts. I’m so sorry._

He stood in the bathroom stall and waited. Gerard hadn’t taken any longer than two minutes to answer all morning except for his shower, but now he didn’t answer. 

_I’m really sorry!!_ Frank sent.

Nothing.

Gerard didn’t answer. Frank stared at his phone and waited, but Gerard said nothing. Minutes ticked by and Frank sent him another desperate, apologizing message as he slowly sank down to the filthy bathroom floor—stained with mud and piss and god-knows what else. 

Maybe Gerard was just in the shower, Frank thought as he tried to calm himself down. Maybe he was on the phone with someone and just didn’t see the texts…

But when the bell rang and forty minutes had past, Frank knew Gerard was ignoring him. Gerard was angry with him for getting them caught. _Disgusted_ with him probably… 

He’d let Gerard go all the way and now he’d been dumped not even a full day later. All because he was stupid and clingy and couldn’t go an hour let alone seven without hearing some word of affection from Gerard. He demanded too much… Now he was used up, tainted, and alone. All alone…

Frank let his phone drop down onto the bathroom floor and buried his face in his knees, giving in and crying. He didn’t care when someone else came in and started using one of the urinals. He didn’t care when someone else came in after and started mocking him—even kicking at the stall door a few times before running off back to class after relieving himself at the urinal as well. 

He heard his name being called over the intercom in the hallway, but couldn’t bring himself to stand up from the floor. He was embarrassed and ashamed—sick to his stomach and shaking. He didn’t want to face the principal and be told he was getting detention for skipping class. He didn’t _want_ punished. Gerard’s silence was hurtful enough.

Frank even tried turning his phone off and back on again, hoping that it was something wrong with the signal—praying he’d get a bunch of messages all at once from his worried boyfriend. 

But he got nothing. 

More silence. 

He heard his name paged again and a few minutes later his phone screen lit up in its place on the floor. Frank turned to look at it, hoping to see a message from Gerard, but instead it was a call from Donna. If he’d learned anything from his attempts to hide from her calls it was that he’d end up grounded if he didn’t pick up. He didn’t want to be in trouble. Gerard was going to dump him and Frank would need his ability to go to Jamia’s house to hide.

“Mom?” Frank asked as he accepted the call and held the phone to his ear.

“Frank, where are you? Your school called—”

“I’m sorry, Momma,” Frank sobbed, wanting her to know he was genuine. He didn’t want his school to call her and worry her—anger her.

“What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

“I can’t talk about it,” Frank whimpered. He couldn’t tell her what he and Gerard had done. She would be so disappointed in him, repulsed maybe. He didn’t want that. He _needed_ her.

“Why?”

“Please come get me, Mom. I-I need to come home.” He knew Gerard would be there, but it didn’t matter. If he could face Gerard, maybe he could talk him out of this. He could tell him it was an accident and beg forgiveness. He’d let Gerard do anything he wanted to him to make up for it—hit him, even. _Anything._ He didn’t want them to be over. Gerard was the only thing in his life worth living for, other than Zoe—and part of the reason he loved Zoe so much was because she’d been a gift from the man he was in love with.

“Where are you?” Donna asked, her voice gently and compassionate—so much better than what Frank deserved.

“At school. I-I’m in the bathroom.”

“Are you sick?”

“No,” Frank whimpered. 

“Then why are you hiding in the bathroom?”

“I’m sorry,” Frank said, unable to form an explanation. 

“It’s alright. I’ll be there in a little bit. Just go to the office, okay?”

“I-I don’t want yelled at though,” Frank whimpered. “I don’t want in trouble, Mom. I didn’t meant to get in trouble. I’m sorry—please don’t be mad at me, Momma. I’m sorry!” Once he started talking, the words kept pouring out, and endless stream of apologies meant for Gerard. 

“Frank, it’s alright. Just…just stay in the bathroom then. I’ll come to the school and I’ll call when I’m out front. You just get your book bag and come out the car, okay?”

“Okay, Momma,” Frank whispered, sniffing and wiping his nose on the sleeve of his sweater. 

“Are you going to be okay if I hang up?”

“Y-yeah, I-I…I’m sorry, Momma.”

“It’s okay. I’ll be there in ten minutes,” Donna said softly. 

“Okay, Momma,” Frank murmured, wiping his nose again. 

“I’ll be there soon. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Frank said, waiting until Donna hung up to lower the phone from his ear. He kept it clutched in his hand as he buried his face in his knees again, trying not to cry anymore so he’d look less pathetic when he had to come out of hiding. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank was a mess when Donna watched him step out the front doors of his school. He only made it down two steps before one of the staff members hurried out after him and grabbed him by his arm. Donna had told them she was coming to pick Frank up, but apparently Frank didn’t listen when she told him to sign out in the office.

As soon as the man grabbed Frank’s shoulder, the boy dropped to the ground and slid down three steps—smacking his broken arm on one of the concrete stairs.

Donna swore under her breath and unfastened her seatbelt. She left the car in park and got out, hurrying over to Frank and getting her hands on him before the school’s hallway-cop could.

“Are you okay? How’s your arm?” She asked, rubbing his shoulders and helping him to sit up.

Frank whimpered, but didn’t answer. His face was completely flushed and streaked with bright red lines from his tears. She didn’t understand how getting his phone taken away in class had caused him to get _this_ upset.

“Come on. Stand up,” Donna said, gently pulling Frank onto his feet and brushing the dirt and bits of snow off his hoodie. “Where’s your coat?”

“My locker,” Frank whimpered.

“Excuse me—he needs to check out,” the staff member called, trying to reach for Frank as well as if to keep him from running when it was apparent that Frank could barely even walk.

“Oh, fuck off!” Donna spat, wrapping an arm around Frank’s shoulders and escorting him to her silver SUV. 

“M-Momma, I c-can get m-my coat,” Frank stammered, stumbling a little as she rushed him toward the vehicle in her attempt to avoid further conversation with the member of the school staff. 

“Don’t worry about you coat. You can get it when you go back to school,” she said, opening the passenger door for him. He got inside and fastened his seatbelt, then set to rubbing his arm to soothe the pain from his fall—not much good it did since the cast was in the way of his skin. 

She didn’t say anything as she got into the car and took it out of park. The school employee went back inside without complaint. In a way, she was surprised he didn’t call after her or accuse her of being a kidnapper. 

Frank was still sniffling when they pulled into the driveway, but when he lifted his head—for some reason—he burst out crying again and covered his face. 

“What?” Donna asked, hitting the breaks harder than she meant to out of surprise. He’d been quietly sniffing and whimpering, then his sobs had come out so loud and sudden that it startled her. “What’s wrong?”

“Gerard left me,” Frank cried, his voice loud and terribly high pitched. 

“What?” Donna repeated, not sure if he meant they’d broken up and that was why he was a shaking mess or if he was sad because Gerard’s car was gone from the driveway.

“He left me,” Frank cried, covering his face and pulling his knees up to his chest—showing no intention of getting out of the car. 

“H-He left you? That’s—that’s why you’re crying? He broke up with you?”

“W-We were texting when I was in class,” Frank cried, his voice shaking and so broken up Donna could barely understand him. “A-And the teacher took my phone and read our texts. And I told him, and now he doesn’t want to talk to me anymore.”

“He… He told you he wanted to break up because—because of the text messages?” Donna asked, reaching over to rub Frank’s back in an attempt to calm him. That didn’t sound like Gerard at all. Typically he broke up with his boyfriends around the time they started asking to meet his family—and for Frank, that barrier had been overcome before they’d even gotten together. 

“I told him the teacher saw them—he thinks I got him caught. Now he doesn’t like me anymore,” Frank sobbed, choking a bit on his gasps for air. 

“Your teacher saw that the texts were from _Gerard?”_

“I told her they were f-from a g-girl, but Gerard doesn’t c-care. He h-hates me,” Frank said, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. 

“Gerard doesn’t hate you,” Donna said, rubbing Frank’s shoulder. “I promise. He didn’t say anything to me about it before he left.”

“He n-never tells you when he’s mad at me,” Frank whimpered.

“Did he text you saying he was mad?”

“No,” Frank said, shaking his head. “He just won’t answer me. He hates me, Momma, and I loved him so much!” He started crying harder and leaned over the center console of the SUV to wrap his arms around Donna. He was weeping as if someone had _died_ and it broke her heart, but in the same moment she couldn’t help but feel a small bit of irritation at him. Gerard stopped answering so he had to cry himself into a panic attack in the high school bathroom? 

“Frank, stop… Frank, come on now.” Donna rubbed his back and patted his shoulder, trying to calm him down when she knew it wouldn’t work. He’d stop crying once he tired himself out. “Frank, Gerard got called in to _work._ Do you understand? He’s not answering you because he’s at _work,_ and if you weren’t crying, I’d take you there and show you. Alright?”

“He texts me from work all the time,” Frank whimpered, nuzzling her shoulder. 

“Well he must be busy. Come on. We’re not sitting out here and freezing to death. Let’s go inside. I’ll make you some tea,” Donna said, pushing Frank back by his shoulders. She made him get out of the car and guided him into the house. As soon as they walked through the front door, Zoe rushed them, her tail wagging anxiously as she nosed at Frank’s hands. Donna made sure Frank stayed on the couch with Zoe in the living room while she brewed a pot of herbal tea, listening to him struggle to regain his composure. 

As soon as the mug of tea was in his hands, she went upstairs and into the bathroom before taking her phone out of her pocket and calling Gerard. Of course, he didn’t pick up, so she called the Spend N Save’s number next.

“Spend N Save. Ray speaking. How can I help you?”

“Hi, this is Donna. Can you put Gerard on please?”

“Um… He’s kind of stalking a kid right now. Can he call you back?”

“It’s about Frank.”

“Oh! Okay. I’ll get him. Just a second.”

Donna sighed and rolled her eyes as she waited for Gerard to pick up.

“Hello?”

“Gerard, you need to talk to Frank.”

“Why? What happened? Is he hurt?”

“His teacher caught him texting you and he got in trouble, then you quit answering and now he’s on our couch hyperventilating. He thinks you broke up with him.”

“What?—Wait, _what!?_ His teacher read our—our texts? Shit! Am—Am I getting arrested?”

“What the hell were you sending him!?” Donna snapped.

“Nothing _explicit,_ but you can tell we’re together. Did the teacher call the fucking cops?”

“No. Frank said something to her about having a girlfriend. You need to call him, Gerard. He thinks you dumped him.”

“Jesus Christ,” Gerard sighed. “Where does he even _get_ these ideas?”

“I don’t know—maybe that’s what happens when you start having sex with a psychologically damaged _teenager,_ Gerard.”

“I thought he was ready! Obviously I was wrong, but I thought he’d be okay.”

“Why couldn’t you just text him and tell him you were going to work?”

“I’ve been texting him at work—my phone _died._ I’ll—I’ll come home. Let me just bust this kid really quick and I’ll be home.”

“Forget the kid. Come home before _my_ kid kills himself.” Donna took the phone away from her ear and hung up. Once it was in her pocket, she flushed the toilet to make it sound as though she’d used the bathroom incase Frank was listening, and then went back downstairs. 

Frank was slowly sipping his tea, Zoe beside him with her head rested on his knee, and staring at the dark television, his eyes bloodshot. He was blinking slowly—exhausted—and looked like he might start to fall asleep. Donna sat down next to him and pulled him over against her shoulder. 

She kissed the top of his head and he let out a low, shaky sigh and brought his mug of tea up to his lips again. She wished she could tell him Gerard was coming home for him, but couldn’t let on that she’d called Gerard. She wanted it to look natural when Gerard came home and comforted Frank—and her only hope was that Gerard wouldn’t mention her calling him. The last thing she wanted was for Frank to feel betrayed or like she’d gossiped about him.

( ) ( ) ( )

“Where is he?” Gerard asked as he stepped into the house, already unwinding his scarf. His mother was standing by the oven, cutting up onions that she then deposited into a steaming pot on the stovetop. 

“He went downstairs to nap—and don’t worry, I’ve checked on him multiple times. He’s with Zoe and he’s asleep,” she said, looking up from her work only long enough to pass him a disapproving glance. 

Gerard didn’t waste time on a response. He hurried down the stairs, relieved to see Frank sleeping cuddled into Zoe’s side. He had his arm around the dog and she only moved her eyes to look at Gerard as he stepped into the room, understanding that Frank needed her and her place was next to him. 

Gerard stepped over to the bed and sat down on the opposite side of Zoe, watching Frank sleep for a moment before leaning down to kiss his reddened cheek. Frank didn’t wake up at first, so Gerard began stroking his hair and kissed his cheek again—wanting Frank to wake up without a doubt that he was loved, that Gerard still felt the same way toward him now as he did the night before—and the week before that.

“Hey… Hi, Baby,” Gerard whispered when Frank’s eyes finally opened. The boy blinked hard a few times, then turned his head. He flinched as soon as he saw Gerard, causing Zoe to stir. As soon as the dog realized Frank was fearful of Gerard, she sat up and whipped around to face him and barked once, showing all her teeth. “It’s okay,” Gerard said, leaning back a bit, not sure if he was talking to Frank or the dog. Zoe didn’t relax until Frank, shaking a bit, reached over and started petting her back. “Frank, I’m so sorry. My phone died—I got called into work. I didn’t know anything had happened. Are you okay?” He tried to reach over to touch Frank’s cheek, but Zoe barked at him again and kept her teeth bared this time. It seemed to scare Frank as well and he pulled away from her. “Frank?”

The boy just stared, on the verge of tears and refusing to move or speak in fear of causing the tears to fall. Gerard could see all of his insecurities in his eyes—something he never wanted to see in Frank again. He wanted things to stay the way they’d been last night and early this morning. Frank was happy and safe then. Now he looked defeated and heartbroken. 

He _really_ thought Gerard had dumped him. He _believed_ it.

“Frank… My _phone_ died, Baby. I didn’t mean to ignore you. I didn’t know what happened. I’m so sorry. I thought you were fine—I didn’t even think to charge it at work. I didn’t think I’d be there long.”

Frank stared at him, then looked over at Zoe and quickly started petting and ruffling her fur. Once she was starting to calm down, Gerard scooted a little closer to Frank on the bed. 

“Baby… Can you tell me what happened? My phone’s still dead. I don’t want to have to hear it from Mom.”

“M-my teacher saw our texts,” Frank whispered lowering his face in shame, a tear immediately rolling down his cheek. “I told her they were from a girlfriend ’cause you’re in my phone as Gee… And she knows Mom.”

“What? Frank, you’re not making any sense… Who knows Mom? Your teacher?” Gerard asked. Frank nodded, but didn’t look up. “Which teacher?” Frank told him and Gerard had to fight to suppress a groan. Mrs. Lewin. She’d _hated_ Gerard in school. He spent all of the class period drawing instead of taking notes and there was nothing she could do about it—even her all-powerful stare of disapproval didn’t work on him. But a look like that coming from an older woman, it did terrible things to Frank. Gerard imagined that looks like Mrs. Lewin tended to give reminded Frank of his mother, or worse—his grandmother. “And you told her that you were texting a girlfriend?”

“I-I was scared she’d know that Gee meant you,” Frank said, daring to look up. “I didn’t want you to get in trouble because of me. I-I tried to ex-explain it to you, but you just di-didn’t answer.” Fran ducked his head and began sobbing. Zoe whimpered and licked at his cheeks, desperately trying to comfort him. Gerard wanted to hold him, but he was scared the dog might bite him, so all he could do was reach out and put his hand on Frank’s knee.

“I’m sorry, Baby. I thought you were okay.”

“I wasn’t,” Frank cried, pressing his face into Zoe’s fur. 

“I’m so sorry, Frank…” It broke his heart seeing Frank like this—especially after last night. He remembered how happy Frank had looked, how peaceful and loving… Just the epitome of perfection. Now he was crying and hurt and scared. “Tell me how I can make it up to you. I’ll do anything.”

Frank sniffed and looked up from Zoe’s coat.

“D-Do you still like me?” 

“Frank, I _love_ you,” Gerard said, squeezing Frank’s knee. Zoe was watching him intently, staring at his hand, silently threatening to bite. “I didn’t mean to hurt you today—my phone just died. If—If I’d gotten your messages I would’ve told you right away, you did the right thing. You kept our secret and I’m so…so _grateful_ for that. I’m—I’m proud of you.”

“Really?” Frank asked, scooting a little closer. Zoe looked concerned by the motion and stood up, pressing her nose into Frank’s face and kissing him. He petted her dismissively and then turned back to Gerard, desperate for more of the nice words that fought all the awful things he’d no doubt been calling himself in his head. 

“Yes, really,” Gerard said, flashing a small smile. “Baby, what happened last night…it—it wasn’t just a physical thing, you know? It’s… It’s about love and trust and…commitment to each other. I’m not going to break up with you, Frank. Not… Not by ignoring you, not by cutting you out—not ever. I’ve never felt toward _anybody_ the way I feel for you and…if we ever do have a fight—or _when_ we do—I hope we can talk about it and fix it. I love you so much, Frank. I’m not breaking up with you, so please don’t be scared.”

Frank looked at him, a strange expression on his face. He was chewing his lip as if anxious, but his eyes had lit back up despite the tears still rimming them. 

“I’m sorry you got hurt today,” Gerard added when all Frank did was stare. “I probably shouldn’t have been texting you at all when you were at school, but… I don’t know. I guess I love you too much. I couldn’t stand to be away from you for a minute.”

Frank smiled, genuinely, and scooted closer on the bed. His change in attitude caused Zoe to relax and she moved to the foot of the bed while Gerard leaned against the headboard and let Frank nestle down against his chest. He rubbed Frank’s shoulder and kissed the top of his head, whispering little words of affection every now and then until he felt Frank’s body relax completely against him.


	56. Chapter 56

_Chapter 56_

Frank hadn’t wanted to get up for dinner the night before. He’d fallen asleep after Gerard had come to comfort him and wanted to stay that way, taking in all the affection he could get from his boyfriend. He was calm until Gerard left the bed to go eat, but refused to follow after him. Gerard had to make him a plate and bring it down to the basement once the meal was over. Frank only ate a little, which told Gerard that the boy was still upset, then went for his shower and snuggled up next to Gerard who sketched while Frank slept. 

He seemed a little fitful at first, but Gerard thought nothing of it. He was probably just bothered that the overhead lights were still on. But even after Gerard had turned them off and settled down to sleep, his arm draped over Frank’s shoulders to keep him close and comforted, Frank kept moaning and squirming around. He was keeping Gerard awake, but Gerard knew if he slipped out of his bed and went to sleep in Frank’s instead to get some space and a bit of sleep, Frank would be devastated in the morning, so Gerard suffered through it. 

Gerard felt he didn’t sleep a minute the whole night—not with Frank fussing and squirming around next to him all night. He’d be under the blankets one minute, kick them off the next. Curled into Gerard’s side, pushing Gerard away.

When the alarm went off at six-thirty, Frank moaned as he woke up and shoved Gerard away again.

“It’s too hot,” he groaned, his voice sounding rough with more than sleep.

“Baby, it’s cold down here,” Gerard said, reaching over to pet Frank hair. Frank rolled away from his touch and groaned again.

“It’s _so_ hot!” Frank whimpered. 

“Are you feeling okay?” Gerard asked, sitting up and crawling to the foot of his bed in order to switch on the lamp on his desk.

“No,” Frank whined. “I’m _burning._ ”

“Do you have a fever?” Gerard moved back over to Frank and felt his forehead. He was warm and when Frank watched him, his eyes were watery. “Aw, Baby…”

Frank whimpered and brought his hands up to his face, rubbing his eyes and pressing hard on his sinuses. He moaned and started shaking his head back and forth.

“My head hurts,” he whined, still rubbing at his face.

“I think we have some meds upstairs. Do you want me to get you some?”

“No,” Frank said before letting out a sound like a sob.

“You need to take something if you’re not feeling good, Baby. You can’t miss your second day back to school,” Gerard said, feeling Frank’s forehead again. 

“I don’t want to go,” Frank whined. “I don’t feel good and Mrs. Lewin’s just going to make fun of me again.”

“She’s not going to bother you,” Gerard said, cringing a little when Frank started coughing. 

“I don’t want to go,” Frank repeated, groaning more and more. “Is Mom going to make me?—I really don’t feel good…”

“I’ll go tell her you’re sick, okay? I’ll get some juice too. You need some vitamin C.” 

“Okay—can you bring me the apple juice? I want the apple juice.”

“Sure,” Gerard said, stroking Frank’s hair one last time before getting up from the bed. Frank stretched out as soon as he’d left the bed and let out a low groan. 

“And some tissues?” Frank asked.

“Tissues?—Uh…” Gerard looked around, disoriented for a moment, and then spotted a half-empty box on the edge of his desk. He grabbed it and set in the bed next to his boyfriend, then started up the basement stairs to get him a glass of juice. 

His mother was in the kitchen, making pancakes and bacon. A pack of fake bacon was sitting on the counter for Frank’s plate, as well as a carton of soy milk for his pancakes. 

“Has he calmed down any?” Donna asked, passing Gerard a rather uncalled for, displeased glance. What right did she have to be grouchy at Gerard before seven in the morning?

“Yeah,” Gerard said, making his way over to the fridge. “I think he’s sick, though.”

“I’m not surprised,” his mother said. 

“What are you talking about?” Gerard asked as he took the bottle of juice out of the fridge and carried it to the counter. 

“He gave it to me, whatever he caught,” Donna muttered, flipping over one of the pancakes. “Give it a few hours and you’ll have it, too.”

“I think I’m fine,” Gerard said, pouring the cup of juice and then returning the bottle of juice. 

“Why are _you_ getting apple juice? I thought you hated that stuff,” his mother said, watching him out of the corner of her eye.

“It’s for Frank. He said he wanted some.”

“Do you work today?”

“I have a shift in the afternoon. Why?”

“Because if Frank feels as shitty as I do right now, he’s obviously not going to school, now is he?” She asked, her tone a bit bitter. Though her routine didn’t change much with Frank and Mikey out of the picture—what with them going back to school—Gerard knew that the very last thing his mother wanted to do when she was sick was tend to anyone else. Even Frank was an inconvenience at that point, though she would (hopefully) never tell him so. 

“I guess not,” Gerard said, picking up the cup of juice. “I’ll go tell him the good news.”

“This is your fault, you know,” his mother said just as he was about to start down the stairs.

“How is you getting sick my goddamn fault?” Gerard snapped. He’d spent all night having Frank squirming around beside him and the last thing he wanted was to have his mother griping at him. 

“You’re the one who got Frank all worked up yesterday.”

“My phone died! It’s not my fault—”

“He wouldn’t have gone into a full-blown panic attack if your phone died and that’s all there was to it,” his mother said, passing him another one of those cold glances as she scooped up the pancake with a spatula and set it aside on a plate. 

“That’s all there was to it!” Gerard argued. “It just happened at a shitty moment. I didn’t know his teacher saw the texts.”

“You shouldn’t have been _sending_ those texts. You shouldn’t be doing _half_ the shit you’re doing with that boy and you need to stop it.”

“We’re not doing anything,” Gerard muttered. “It’s just talk.”

_“Talk_ didn’t put the shit I’ve seen in your bedsheets the last few months. I know what you’re doing—I’m just glad he’s not giving me the play-by-play like he usually does. It takes everything I have not to tell him to just shut up and keep some things to himself,” she added, her voice a low, hash mutter.

“Usually does? What the hell are you talking about?—What does he say?”

“Forget it,” his mother said, pouring batter for another pancake.

“No—what’s he been saying?”

“Nothing _explicit,_ but I can tell when you’ve done something. Sending the dog upstairs doesn’t help your case much, you know?”

“Would you rather she stay there and watch?” Gerard said, rolling his eyes and hurrying down the stairs before the argument could go on any longer. Frank was still in bed moaning and sniffling as he struggled to breathe through his stuffy nose. 

“What took you so long?” Frank asked.

“Mom,” Gerard said, rolling his eyes. “She’s not feeling too good either.”

“I got Momma sick?” Frank asked, moaning as he started to sit up. He accepted the cup of juice from Gerard and then leaned against his boyfriend’s shoulder when Gerard sat beside him. 

“Maybe she got you sick,” Gerard suggested, knowing Frank would get upset if he thought he infected Donna with whatever the hell he’d picked up on his first day back to school. “It could’ve happened.”

“It’s because I sat on the floor in the bathroom,” Frank said as he sipped his juice. He sniffed loudly and then let out a moan—congested and uncomfortable. 

“Why did you do that?” Gerard asked, handing Frank a tissue when the boy kept sniffling.

“Because,” Frank said before pausing to blow his nose. “I was freaking out and my legs were shaking. I needed to sit down.”

Gerard frowned and started petting Frank’s hair as he drank more of his juice. He couldn’t believe he’d managed to upset Frank that much yesterday, just by missing a few texts at a bad time. There was so much pressure involved with being Frank’s boyfriend… Gerard had to be perfect. He couldn’t miss a beat or a cue. If Frank seemed sad, he had to drop everything to cheer him back up—otherwise the boy would fill with doubt and dread and convince himself that their relationship was over. 

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” Gerard murmured, kissing Frank’s temple.

“It’s my fault,” Frank said, blowing his nose again. “I freak out over everything. I don’t know how you can stand me,” he added in a quiet mutter as he set his empty cup aside and began to lie back down. “I don’t feel good.”

“Mom said you can stay home today—you know what that means?”

Frank’s answer was a feverish, sleepy moan. 

“Means I get to take care of you—bring you anything you need.” Gerard moved to lie at Frank’s side and kept stroking his hair, pushing the sweaty strands away from his face.

“Does Mom have any medicine?” Frank asked. “Do they make medicine for this?”

“For colds? Yeah… We might have something. You want me to go check?” 

Frank was quiet a moment, then scooted closer to Gerard on the bed. 

“No…”

“No?” Gerard asked, smiling as he ran his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair. 

“Mom says cold medicine doesn’t work,” Frank mumbled.

“Cold medicine works just fine. It’ll help you sleep. I know you need some sleep. You were up all night.”

“I couldn’t breathe,” Frank said, sighing and then sniffing loudly. 

“Meds will help,” Gerard said. “If we don’t have any, I’ll go get you some. I don’t like seeing you all…stuffed up.”

“Okay,” Frank said, not moving from his position, curled up against Gerard’s chest.

“I’ll just be a minute, okay? If we don’t have any, I’ll tell you before I leave to get some.”

“Okay,” Frank repeated, blowing his noise again into his, now, soaking-wet tissue. Gerard grabbed him another tissue and moved the box closer to his face. 

“I’ll be right back,” he said, getting up and pressing one last kiss to the boy’s temple before going back upstairs.

As soon as he stepped into the kitchen, his mother pushed a plate of food into his hands.

“Here. It’s Frank’s breakfast. Make sure he eats something,” his mother said. The rest of the family’s food was all dished out and sitting on the counter.

“Do we have any cold meds?” Gerard asked.

“I don’t know. Probably somewhere. Did you look upstairs?”

Gerard sighed and set Frank’s plate down on the table before starting up the stairs. In the medicine cabinet over the bathroom sink there was a nearly full box of cold meds. They were Spend N Save brand, not the strongest, but they would do the trick. Just two could knock Frank out—stuffy nose or no. 

He took the box and went back downstairs, picking up Frank’s plate on his way. By the time he got back to the room, Frank was already starting to acquire a pile of used tissues around him on the bed. It was disgusting, and the sad look he passed Gerard when their eyes met told the older man that Frank was aware of it as well—but he was too sick to really care and Gerard wasn’t going to complain about it. He doubted he’d be able to avoid catching Frank’s cold, but he wished there was an easy way to avoid it that didn’t involve avoiding his boyfriend. Frank would be hurt by it, even if he understood Gerard didn’t want sick.

Gerard didn’t want to hurt Frank. Especially not after yesterday. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank was home sick for three days, drowning in tissues and snot most of the time. It was absolutely _disgusting,_ but Gerard knew better than to complain. To combat getting sick, he just washed his hands more and drank a lot of orange juice—going so far as to buy out Spend N Save’s entire stock of OJ himself the day it came in. He spent a lot of time nursing Frank back to health—fetching him more tissues and more juice, more medicine and cold cloths and ice packs. It wasn’t his favorite thing to do—care for someone repulsively ill—but he would do it. He would _definitely_ do it for Frank. 

He knew Frank would do it for him as well. 

On Wednesday, they sat together on the couch while their mother went grocery shopping. She’d tried to get Gerard to come along with her to help pick out food and carry the bags, but he’d refused—arguing that he wanted to stay with Frank and make sure his boyfriend was okay. 

Frank was lying down with his head in Gerard’s lap, one of his hands on Gerard’s knee which he occasionally rubbed or squeezed. He was still having trouble breathing through his nose and would groan every now and then, but for the most part he felt better. Gerard was pleased he’d managed to avoid catching the boy’s cold, even though their mother had given it to Don who complained about it every morning before work and every evening when he got home. 

They watched television for a while, Frank nodding off every now and then. He’d wake up after about twenty minutes to blow his nose, then cuddle up some more while Gerard petted his hair. 

“Mom says I need a haircut,” Frank said quietly as he rubbed Gerard’s knee. He’d been silent for nearly an hour, either watching tv or sleeping—Gerard couldn’t be sure which. 

“Maybe… Do you want me to take you? We could go tonight if you’re feeling up to it. It’s a little bit warmer today.”

“I don’t know… I-I guess we can go.”

“You don’t sound very sure,” Gerard said, looking down at Frank who must’ve sensed it as he rolled over onto his back to look up at him. 

“I… I don’t know how to… I mean, with Momma, she just took me somewhere and told the guy to cut it. In the summer, she had him shave it… I don’t like that.”

“I won’t make you shave your head, don’t worry,” Gerard said, smiling at Frank and petting his long hair. “I want you to…to pick whatever makes you happy.” He wanted to say he liked Frank’s longer hair, but he didn’t want to put that idea in Frank’s head. He didn’t want Frank thinking he had to wear it a certain way in order for Gerard to like him or find him attractive. If Frank was supposed to keep maturing and growing up, he would have to make decisions on his own about how he dressed and how he looked. 

“How do you cut yours?” Frank asked.

“I don’t know… With scissors in the bathroom. I haven’t had it done properly in…I don’t know, over a year maybe,” Gerard said, laughing a little. 

“I like it though,” Frank said, reaching up and messing with one of the longer strands of Gerard’s hair that rested against his neck. “You always look…look good,” he added, starting to blush and giggling just a little. 

Gerard smiled at him and stroked his hair a few more times. Mikey was at school, their mother was out shopping, the dad was at work… They had the house all to themselves. That was a very, very rare treat and Gerard knew _exactly_ what it meant when Frank looked at him and blushed like that. 

But he was still sick and Gerard didn’t want to catch it… If there was intimacy going on, they were going to have to kiss—kissing was what told Frank there was love in what was happening between them—and kissing spread germs…

“Gerard?” Frank asked, cheeks tinted pink. 

“Yes?” Gerard asked, innocently pretending he didn’t know what Frank was wanting. 

“Do you think Mom will be home soon?”

“Maybe,” Gerard said, looking over at the clock on the wall. She’d only been gone about twenty minutes… They had at least an hour—at the very least. 

“I love you,” Frank said, squirming around a little before sitting up and getting into Gerard’s lap. He was still a little woozy from his cold and Gerard tried to hide his grimace as he kissed Frank on the cheek. 

He loved Frank—he really did—snot and all. But Frank’s nose was running again and it was getting on his lips. Gerard did _not_ want to kiss that.

“I love you, too, Baby,” Gerard said, trying to keep smiling as Frank wiggled in his lap. 

“Can we go downstairs?” Frank asked, nervously smiling and wiping his nose on the back of his hand. 

“Maybe…maybe when you’re feeling better, Baby. I don’t want you to wear yourself out and get sick again.” For the sake of keeping Frank calm, Gerard forced himself to kiss the boy on the mouth. 

“But I feel fine,” Frank whispered, squirming again and pressing his hips forward against Gerard’s.

“Mm, but you said that yesterday and then had a sneezing fit at dinner.”

“That was gross—don’t bring that up right now,” Frank said, shaking his head in embarrassment. 

“I know it was gross. I don’t want to catch it, Baby. You’re sick. You need rest, not…you know,” Gerard added, smiling a little as he kissed Frank’s cheek again. 

The boy sighed and dropped his head down onto Gerard’s shoulder. 

“We don’t ever get to be alone, though,” Frank whispered.

“Well… I’m sure we can find a day that Mom’s got somewhere to be and I don’t have work. I’ll call you off school and we can spend all day in bed. Just don’t let Mom find out you’re faking sick or we’re both screwed.”

Frank giggled and squirmed around in Gerard’s lap a little more, knowing he was being a tease and not caring. Gerard was tempted to flip them and put Frank under him on the couch—pull the boy’s jeans down and blow him. But he didn’t know if he could catch a cold from a blowjob and didn’t want to lower himself enough to search it online.

“I hope, someday—maybe—we get to be alone together. Like…live alone together,” Frank whispered. “Do you think we can?”

“Of course we can,” Gerard said, kissing Frank’s cheek and rubbing the boy’s hips gently. “I don’t know how it’ll work out though. With you in my bed every morning and no one to catch us…shit, I’ll probably lose my job. I’ll never get up again,” Gerard added, smiling at Frank who giggled at him before sniffing loudly and wiping his nose on the back of his hand again. 

When the boy leaned in for another kiss on the mouth, Gerard forced himself to smile and returned the kiss gently—praying he didn’t catch the boy’s cold in return for his efforts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing really happens in this chapter--but someone new emerges in the next chapter so that should be exciting!


	57. Chapter 57

_Chapter 57_

The next day, one of the social workers arrived to check on Frank. They had been notified by the school that Frank had “been having issues again” since the holidays and that Donna had “shouted profanities” at a teacher. 

Gerard was at work when they came—Mikey at school and Don at work—leaving Donna and Frank alone with the social workers. Frank’s usual caseworker wasn’t one of the two who arrived and without her familiar presence, Frank was twice as anxious as he typically was during welfare checks. Being sick didn’t help him, either, and he had to throw up twice within the first hour that the social workers were there. 

One of the social workers sat in the kitchen with Donna while the other sat with Frank upstairs in “his” room. Frank was gently questioned about his holidays while Donna was interrogated about how Frank ended up crying in the school bathroom after the teacher took his phone. 

“He was fine when he went to school that morning,” Donna insisted. “He was fine—he was _happy._ We’ve had a good holiday. His—His father even sent him presents, you know? Frank’s been nothing but happy since…since school let out at the end of December. I didn’t expect this any more than you did,” she said.

“If he’s been so happy and well-adjusted, there’s no reason for him to react that way to a teacher taking his phone away,” the social worker said, her tone more than just condescending. 

“Frank is very _sensitive._ He doesn’t like to get in trouble. He can’t _handle it_ when he gets in trouble. I can’t even tell him not to talk with his mouth full at dinner. It drives me crazy to see him talking with his mouth full, but I know if I say anything, he’ll stop eating all together! He’s never had a teacher take his phone away. He doesn’t _know_ what happens when a teacher takes his phone away. He doesn’t know if—”

“If he’s going to be beaten at home for it?” The social worker suggested. 

Donna was unable to suppress the look of sheer hatred that overcame her face. 

“Frank is unsure of a lot of things, but he _knows_ I will never, _ever_ hit him. He doesn’t like getting in trouble. He can’t—his mind can’t handle it. He’s so used to going home to his mother and being _whipped_ for breathing the wrong way. Living with my family for a few months won’t magically fix that overnight.”

“Hasn’t he been seeing his therapist regularly?”

“His therapist went on vacation for the holidays. His next appointment is on Thursday,” Donna said. She couldn’t stand the woman’s attitude, but she knew if she responded to her with anything close to the rage and hatred she was feeling, Frank would be taken from her. 

She needed to keep calm. She needed to make sure Frank didn’t get taken. He couldn’t lose his sense of security—his home. “I offered to take him to another therapist while she was gone, but he said no. He likes his therapist. He… He was _happy._ ”

So far the case worker hadn’t said anything about the texts Frank had gotten. They, for whatever reason, weren’t considered relevant. It didn’t matter what Frank was saying that the teacher had seen—what mattered was she had taken his phone and Frank responded by running away to the bathroom and crying so loud the VP could hear him in the hallway. 

“Well, hopefully meeting with his therapist again will help him…get his emotions under control. It’s in our records that he’s prescribed antidepressants. Does he still take that medication?”

“He _never_ took that medication,” Donna said, resisting the impulse to roll her eyes. She didn’t want to discuss this with a stranger. She wanted Frank’s usual case worker—the one who knew Frank and all of his oddities and quirks. “He doesn’t _like_ needing medication to feel better.”

“Has he said why?” The woman asked. 

Donna fixed her with a long, cold stare. 

“His mother doesn’t believe in mental illness. He doesn’t want to take pills to feel better because his mother wouldn’t like it.” Donna hated that the impact of her statement was lost when she had to grab a napkin off the kitchen table to blow her nose. 

Upstairs, Frank was lying in Mikey’s bed with Zoe next to him. She was protecting him from the social worker, showing her teeth every time the woman tried to sit down on the bed next to him. Frank was scared that the woman would make someone take Zoe away from him and have her put to sleep for being vicious and dangerous. He was so scared that this strange woman was determined to ruin everything for him. 

After all, wasn’t that why social workers came? To pinpoint everything Donna did wrong and use the mistakes as excuses to take Frank away. 

“I can see you’re not feeling very well,” the case worker said as Frank wiped his nose on a soaking wet tissue. Mikey didn’t have a tissue box in his room and it made Frank anxious because, if he were sick, wouldn’t he have tissues in _his room?_

“I caught a cold from the bathroom,” Frank whispered. “I sat down on the floor… Was a bad idea.”

“Can you tell me what made you so upset?—About your teacher taking your phone?” The woman had been asking him the same question over and over, and his answer never seemed to satisfy her. 

“I don’t know,” Frank mumbled. 

“Were you afraid you would get in trouble at home?”

“No…”

“No?” The social worker pressed.

Frank sniffed and started petting Zoe’s head. He didn’t like this. He was terrified that he would say something wrong and be taken from Donna—taken from Gerard and Mikey and Zoe. 

“I don’t want Mrs. Lewin mad at me,” Frank lied, staring at the bed. 

“Mrs. Lewin? Your teacher?”

“Yeah… I-I don’t mean to cause trouble, I just…I just wanted to talk to my friends.”

“Lots of kids text in class, Frankie. Why do you think she’d be so angry with you?”

“I don’t know,” Frank mumbled. “I just don’t want people to hate me like Momma.”

The words seemed to confuse the social worker who was quiet for a moment—speechless. 

“I don’t think anyone hates you, Frank.”

“Momma does,” Frank said, looking up at her and meeting her gaze. 

Again, the woman was speechless. She must be new at her job, Frank thought. His other case worker seldom stared at him in stunned silence. He wondered if this one even knew what his mother had done to him.

“Your teacher wouldn’t hate you for texting in class. Why do you feel that she would?”

“I don’t know,” Frank mumbled. “My therapist says…I don’t see things right.”

“You don’t see things right?” the woman repeated. She was talking to him like he was a little kid and he didn’t like it. It wasn’t the same as when Gerard baby-talked him or how Donna coddled him. It was demeaning—insulting. He wasn’t four. If she wanted to know something, she needed to just get to the point, not wait for him to accidentally let it slip.

“I overreact,” Frank said, rolling his eyes to hide how much the statement hurt him. To him, it didn’t feel like overreaction. He felt justified when he panicked. He felt like his world was ending when he did something wrong. He anticipated the hatred his mother always met him with. It wasn’t his fault he was _trained_ to react that way to conflict. “I can’t help it.”

“You can’t help it?”

Frank squeezed his eyes shut, irritation and shame biting into him at once. He tried to fight it when his head started churning out all the bad, negative ideas, but he _really_ couldn’t help it. He fought as hard as he could, but the thought that he could do something so wrong that his boyfriend or his new mother would hate him crushed him. He was so scared that everyone he loved would leave him. 

It was painful, unbearably painful, to fear that the slightest wrong move could make all the affections he’d earned go away. Even if the version of the story he told to the social worker wasn’t exactly true, the feelings behind it were all the same. 

If they got caught, would Gerard stop loving him? Would he hate him? Was love that fragile?

Could one mistake make Gerard go away? Make Donna go away?

The thought alone was enough to make Frank’s heart start racing, though he fought to keep the expression of terror off of his face. He didn’t want the social worker to read him and think something else had happened.

As Frank struggled to keep his breathing even, Donna was still downstairs fighting not to roll her eyes at every other question the other case worker asked her. The woman was asking her about the teacher she cursed at as she pulled Frank up from the school’s front steps. 

“Do you really think that’s a good message to send to the boy? Yelling at his teachers?”

“I don’t know,” Donna said, rolling her eyes. “The guy was trying to grab Frank and it was scaring him. He made Frank fall over. I just wanted him to leave my son alone.”

“It’s not appropriate conduct. It’s verbal abuse—”

“He’s a high school teacher. He hears worse than that every day.”

“Your role as a foster parent is to be a good role model for Frank. Cursing at his teachers is not setting a positive, healthy example,” the case worker said, her disappointment showing heavily. 

“Well, maybe he should’ve kept his hands away from my son,” Donna muttered.

“I can understand you want to protect him, but you know a teacher isn’t going to harm him—not in public. Not directly outside of the school. He was asking you to sign Frank out for the day so it shows in the paperwork. There’s no harm in that. If you’d just signed him out, we wouldn’t even be here.”

“You’re not here because Frank didn’t get signed out. You’re here because he had a panic attack in the bathroom and no one can figure out why.”

“Maybe you should look into getting him more counseling. Maybe a psychiatrist.”

“A psychiatrist can’t help him. He doesn’t want to take medication—”

“He _needs_ it. If getting his phone taken away is enough to cause him to break down into some sort of—of _fit,_ then he needs mood stabilizers or antipsychotics. Something to keep him calm so he can make it through a day of school without—”

“I’m not force-feeding my son pills to make him act the way you want him to. He’s _sensitive._ He needs _therapy._ He’s only been getting counseling for a few months. It’ll take years to work through what’s happened to him and I’m willing to be patient. I love Frank—I’ll support him through anything. If he starts to—to get out of control or it starts happening more and more often, maybe _then_ I’ll make him take drugs he doesn’t want. But right now I think he’s just a confused kid. He’s _scared,_ he’s _lost._ Pills won’t help him. A _psychiatrist_ can’t help him.”

“A medication would help keep him calm and stable. If he keep having these fits in school—”

“Keeps having? He had one bad day! Just one—”

“And it was on his first day back from break. Breaks are supposed to be restful. If it had been relaxing, why would he have snapped so easily?”

“Because he’s sensitive!” Donna argued. “Frank is very sensitive. If he thinks he’s done anything wrong he panics. He gets scared that we’ll abandon him or hate him because his _mother_ hated him so much. He doesn’t understand the difference between hatred and disappointment. Any bad feeling toward him at all is just… _unbearable_ to him.” 

Donna tried and tried to justify it—to make sense of it—but the case worker didn’t care to listen. Frank needed medicated, the woman thought. In the end, Donna agreed to talk to Frank more sternly about why he needed to take his anti-depressants. 

Once the two women finally left, Donna went upstairs to check on Frank. She kissed his head and fussed over his long hair a bit, trying to cheer him up. Nothing helped. 

Frank asked when Gerard was coming home from work, even though they both knew he finished work at five. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Another week passed before Donna gave permission for Gerard to take Frank to get his hair cut. She wanted Frank to pick a style—and really think about it—before they went, encouraging him to pick something unique or even a bit edgy instead of the standard cuts his mother no doubt had pressed upon him. Her husband repeatedly reminded her that Frank was a boy—not some teenage girl who needed to spend countless hours poring over hairstyles in magazines before spending hundreds of dollars at the beauty parlor. Frank, he insisted, didn’t need to look at magazines or go to a stylist. He needed clippers and their dining room chairs—nothing fancy.

Gerard expected the words to shut Frank down. After all, Don was suggesting Frank shave off his hair the way his mother forced him to do in the summers. However, Frank didn’t respond to the comment at all. He kept flipping through the boring pages of the magazine Donna had brought him.

Men’s styles all looked the same, Gerard thought. He didn’t want his boyfriend to go into the salon with his long, unique hair and come out with a cookie-cutter bowl cut or something boring and short. Gerard took the magazine away after the fourth day Frank spent looking at it—pretending he had no idea where it could possibly have gone when Frank asked—and then replaced it with a music magazine. He’d much rather have Frank gleaning inspiration from rock stars and artists, not models and actors. Models and actors were designed to appeal to the masses.

Gerard didn’t want Frank to appeal to the masses… He wanted Frank to appeal to him. 

It was manipulative and rude—and no better than what Frank’s mother had done to him—but Gerard was a frequent presence as Frank looked at the photos in the magazine. He pretended to be knowledgeable about artists he didn’t care for—because he liked their haircuts and wanted Frank to pick something similar. He didn’t have to tell Frank out loud that he wanted him to style his hair that way. Just showing interest in it sent enough of a message to Frank who—always so eager to please—would pick whatever style Gerard liked.

Then, finally, on the day Gerard offered to take him to get his hair cut, Frank picked a style. It was short everywhere except in the front. Frank wanted to keep his bangs, used to hiding behind them, but he was alright with the idea of having his hair short—very short—on the sides. It was practically a Mohawk and when he showed it to Donna for approval she quickly said no.

No, he was not getting a Mohawk. But if he wanted it, he could have it so long as the sides weren’t shaved and the back was short. 

“So, like a faux-hawk,” Gerard complained, liking the original style Frank had picked out more than the one his mother was suggesting.

“Like a Mohawk that’s not going to get the social workers up in arms,” Donna said, running his fingers through Frank’s hair, scrutinizing the long strands as it would be the last time she’d see them. 

“As long as I can keep my bangs, I’m okay with whatever,” Frank said, clutching onto the magazine and looking to Gerard for confirmation.

“Anything you want, Baby,” Gerard said, flashing a smile. 

Donna rolled her eyes and stopped petting Frank’s hair, giving him a gentle hug before returning to shopping list. 

“If—If I get it and you don’t like it, Mom, I can let Don cut it,” Frank said, trying to his hardest to make sure he didn’t do anything or pick anything his new mother wouldn’t approve of. He needed to appease her. 

“It’ll be fine, Frankie. Just do what I said and don’t get a Mohawk. If you’re keeping it long in the front, don’t shave the rest of your head. You’ll be fine.” She hugged him one last time and then Gerard was allowed to take him out to the car. He opened the passenger door for Frank, getting the boy to giggle, then kissed him once he’d gotten into the car as well. 

Trips into town together were as close to a romantic dates as they could get at the moment since Gerard didn’t have much money—a lot of it going to food for Zoe and a little bit going into Gerard’s savings envelope for a nice Valentine’s Day gift for Frank. 

The ride to the salon was spent with Frank babbling endlessly about one of his teachers how hard his homework was. Gerard pretended to listen, but he was really just admiring Frank’s tone. He was happy again—as though the whole panic attack in the bathroom thing had never happened. Granted, they hadn’t attempted any more than handjobs since then as Frank was recovering from his cold. (Frank didn’t ask for more either, completely engrossed in what Gerard could do with his fingertips now that Gerard knew about that extra sensitive spot on the side of Frank’s tip.) 

When they reached the salon, Frank grew quiet—more shy than anxious. He sat close to Gerard on the hard, plastic seats and fidgeted with the magazine in his hands. He kept looking at the picture he’d chosen, then would look at Gerard, still seeking validation. 

“I think it’ll look cool,” Gerard said, reaching over to tuck Frank’s bangs behind his ear. 

The boy blushed and ducked his head, mumbling something Gerard didn’t catch and giggling to himself. 

After fifteen minutes, it was his turn to have his hair cut and when the stylist called Frank over, the boy grabbed Gerard’s hand so the other man would come with him. Gerard ended up leaning against the counter where the stylist kept her spray bottles and tools, and served as Frank’s emotional support as he showed the stylist what he wanted. 

Gerard had to chip in a few comments when the stylist asked questions, Frank being too nervous or too uncertain to be able to answer on his own. Gerard didn’t really like the way it looked when he spoke on Frank’s behalf, but Frank kept smiling at him as he did—relieved he didn’t have to stammer out an explanation of a faux-hawk that wasn’t really a faux-hawk. 

When the girl started snipping away at Frank’s long hair, the boy became stiff in the seat. He began to look anxious and bit his lips as the dark curls of hair fell down onto his shoulders and the floor. Gerard tried striking up a conversation about work to put the boy at ease, but it didn’t really work and the stylist didn’t comment at all, focused on trimming up the sides of Frank’s hair before starting to clip and shape his long bangs. 

Frank had chewed his bottom lip until it was bloody by the time the stylist broke out the hair clippers to trim and shave the back of his neck, keeping his hairline neat and tidy. Frank stared at Gerard instead of the mirror—not once daring to look over at the glass and check the woman’s progress, afraid of what he’d see. Gerard made a point to smile at him, trying to comfort him and reassure him that he looked good—really fucking good. 

“Well, what do you think?” The stylist asked, turning the black chair so Frank faced the mirror head-on and couldn’t avoid seeing his own reflection.

“I-I think it looks cool,” Frank said, immediately turning his head to look at Gerard once the words were out. 

The stylist set to wiping off the back of Frank’s neck and then removed the black draping from around his shoulders, shaking the strands of hair off onto the floor. 

“It looks great,” Gerard said, coming over and running his fingers through the short, little strands of hair on the side of Frank’s head. He missed the boy’s long hair, but his bangs were still long enough that they nearly reached his chin—giving Gerard something to toy with when they kissed and fist his hand in when Frank’s went down on him. 

To help Frank feel more confident in the look, Gerard came over to the chair and knelt down in order to take a photo of them together. The stylist politely turned her back to them and stated she would be at the counter when they were ready to pay, and Gerard took a second photo where he kissed Frank on the cheek—making the boy crinkle his nose. 

“You look perfect, Baby,” Gerard whispered. 

“Thanks,” Frank said, blushing and getting up a little unsteadily from the chair. Gerard hugged him and then walked to the counter with his arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Donna had fussed over Frank’s hair, praising it and telling him how nice it looked and how fitting. Frank really hadn’t expected it, but it made him feel so much better about his decision to cut his hair. He felt like he’d done something right—he’d been able to pick something have it be the right thing for him. Donna liked it and Gerard _really_ liked it. Gerard liked it _a lot._

As soon as they’d gotten home and went down to their bedroom, Gerard had started kissing him and rubbing his hips. It made Frank’s heart start pounding because he knew that after everyone went to bed, he was going to get attention tonight. 

He had to be patient though. They still hadn’t had dinner yet so Frank was lying on his back in bed, reading one of Gerard’s new comic books. Gerard was upstairs getting them both drinks but was taking a long time. Frank tried not to dwell on it, assuming Gerard might’ve just gone to the bathroom or started talking to Mikey about school or something.

As he waited, his phone started ringing—the loud, rock and roll ringtone startling him at first and making him toss the comic book up in the air a little bit. He set it aside once he’d caught it again and then picked up his phone.

His dad was calling, but it was only Wednesday. His dad only ever called on Fridays and instantly Frank became worried that something might be wrong.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Frankie. How’s it going?”

“I’m fine,” Frank said. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Everything’s great. Why?—You sound nervous. Is this a bad time?”

“No, I just… It’s just that you only call on Fridays. It’s Wednesday,” Frank said, sitting up on the bed and propping his pillow up behind him. 

“Ah. Yes. The thing is, I’ve got this weekend off. I was thinking I would come down and maybe visit you for a bit. Take you out to dinner maybe and introduce you to Joy.”

Frank felt his skin start to prickle and he bit his already sore and tortured bottom lip.

“I-I’d have to ask Mom,” Frank said, nervous now because he wanted to meet his dad, he wanted to reconnect, but he was scared. His dad had walked out on him and left him with Momma… His dad had abandoned him. He didn’t want to let his dad come back only to have him leave again when he realized Frank wasn’t what he wanted in a son—just like how he’d realized Linda wasn’t what he wanted in a wife. 

“Is she home? You can go ask her,” his dad said, thankfully not seeing the reason behind Frank’s hesitation and lack of excitement.

“Yeah she’s upstairs,” Frank said. “I-I’ll go ask her.”

He swallowed hard and got up from his bed, cautiously going upstairs and stepping into the kitchen where Donna was cooking.

“Momma?” Frank asked, keeping a fair amount of distance between them and keeping his phone lowered so his father hopefully couldn’t hear the exchange.

“Gerard’s in the bathroom, Frank. He didn’t walk out on you. Don’t worry so much.”

“No, it’s…it’s not that. My dad called,” Frank said.

“Oh,” Donna said, looking away from the vegetables she was cutting on the counter. “Is everything okay?”

“He…wants to come over on Friday and take me to dinner maybe,” Frank said, chewing his lip and wincing as he tasted blood. 

Without saying anything to him, Donna held out her hand, demanding his phone. Frank hesitated, and she curled her fingers in a beckoning gesture until Frank caved and brought her his phone. As soon as she had it, she waved him away and wouldn’t speak until Frank went back down to his bedroom.

At least if his father was told no, Frank wasn’t the one who had to do it. He didn’t know if he wanted to see his dad so soon—he didn’t know if he was ready. What if his dad came and didn’t like him? What if his dad said he was going to come and then just didn’t show up? 

Frank imagined so many different things that could go wrong and he was devastated by his own anxieties by the time Gerard came back downstairs.

“Are you okay, Baby?”

“My dad called. He wants to visit me this weekend.”

“That’s—That’s good though, right? You get to see him again!” Gerard said, smiling and sitting down beside Frank on the bed.

“What if he doesn’t like me?” Frank asked.

“Are you kidding? He’s going to love you. What’s not to love?”

“He left me when I was a kid. Why does he want me now?”

“Because he’s grown up. He knows he was wrong back then. It’s okay, Frank. Don’t be upset.” Gerard started petting his hair and Frank sighed softly. He didn’t want to be upset—they’d had a good day. It was going to stay good. He was going to be happy and show Gerard his appreciation for the haircut… “It’s be okay. I promise.”

“Mom’s talking to him…”

“See? Mom will make sure he’s going to do what he says he’s going to. She’s looking out for you. Nothing bad’s going to happen. Okay?”

“Okay,” Frank said, rolling onto his back and opening his arms for Gerard to hug him. 

His boyfriend smiled at him and leaned down, wrapping his arms around Frank’s back and pulling him up into a tight hug. Frank nuzzled his neck, taking in his smell—a mixture of coffee and shampoo and the odd, stale smell of the Spend N Save. 

They were still holding each other and cuddling when Donna came back downstairs, handing the phone off to Frank without a word. 

“I’ll give you some space, okay?” Gerard said, quietly kissing Frank’s cheek before getting up from the bed and following his mother upstairs. Frank watched him go sadly, missing his closeness and warmth already.

“Dad?” Frank asked.

“Yeah, I’m still here.” 

“What did Mom say?” 

“Well, she’s not too keen on me taking you out, but she said I could bring Joy over for dinner at your house on Friday. Would that be okay?”

“Here?” Frank asked.

“Yeah. Is that alright? We could have dinner and she said maybe rent a movie or something—at least spend a little time together.”

“Okay,” Frank said, too nervous to say much more than that. The whole thing left his anxious.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I… I just don’t want you to say you’re going to come and then…then you don’t,” Frank said, not sure where he pulled the courage from. He never spoke out or questioned anyone’s intentions, but he didn’t want to welcome anyone else in who could use his trust as a means to hurt him—whether intentionally or not.

“I’m not going to skip out on you on purpose, Frank. I mean it when I keep saying I want to see you again. I messed up. I was mad at your mother and I let it get the best of me. But I want to make up for that. Are you going to let me?”

Frank cringed at the words. They felt like an accusation—like his dad was saying it was going to be his fault if his father decided not to visit because Frank pushed him away. 

“I just… Momma hated me. I don’t want you to come here if you’re going to hate me too.”

“I could never _hate_ you, Frank. You’re my son. You could—Hell, you could be a serial killer and I’d still love you, kid.”

Love him? His father ignored his existence for over a decade and now claimed to love him? Frank shook his head, unwilling to be so easily duped. 

“Dad, I… I want to tell you something that…that I think is—is going to change your mind,” Frank said, sighing and looking over his shoulder at the basement stairwell. 

“Now why do you say that, Frank? Do you just not want me to come? I don’t have to visit if you’re not ready for it yet. I just wanted to offer—”

“No, Dad, it’s not like that. I want you to know something about…about me. I don’t want you to come here and see me if you’re just going to hate me once you know what I am. I don’t want to go through that.”

“What are you talking about?” His father asked, sounding confused and bit irritable. 

It was better that way, Frank decided. He’d rather have his father angry with him now, not even knowing what the man looked like, than later after they’d met. Frank could go on without missing him if his dad abandoned him now. In a month he’d probably forget all about it. The same could not be said once he’d met his father again. If they came face-to-face, it would hurt that much more if his dad abandoned him a second time. 

“I… I’m not… I’m not what you want in a son,” Frank confessed, tears pricking his eyes now even though he’d been able to fight them before. 

“What’s going on with you? If you don’t want me to come visit, I don’t have to. You don’t need to make up excuses.”

“I’m _not._ I’m trying to tell you something. I don’t want you to come here and I don’t want to meet you if you’re just going to find out what I am and then leave. I’m not doing that to myself. I—I deserve _better_ than that, Dad.”

“Okay—alright. I get it. Just… Just say what you want to say. What is it?”

“I…” Frank swallowed hard. It was so hard to admit it—to open himself up right away and almost _hope_ to be shot down, to be crushed. To have his father hang up in disgust or shout at him that he didn’t want to see him—that he didn’t want a sodomite for a son. That his mother had been justified in her assault on him… “I have a boyfriend,” Frank said, nausea immediately gripping him. “H-He… He’s really important to me and…it’s not just a phase. This…this is what I am and if you don’t…if you don’t want that in a son then don’t bother coming here.”

His father was quiet for a long time and Frank prepared himself to hang up and spare himself whatever awful thing his father was preparing to say. Just as he was about to press the end call button, however, his father spoke.

“That’s… That’s fine, Frank. I don’t care. It doesn’t change that I want to see you this weekend. You’re my son. I don’t care if you…if you’ve got a boyfriend or whatever. Okay?”

Frank had expected his father to hang up or disown him. He’d been all to ready to shut himself down and work toward blocking the memories out of his father ever trying to contact him in the first place. He didn’t have an answer prepared for if his father accepting him.

“Okay,” Frank said.

“I love you. Alright? I’ll call you tomorrow night and we can talk a little more, okay? You need to get some rest. You’re acting kind of strange tonight.”

Frank said something noncommittal and the phone call ended not long after. Once it ended, Frank texted Gerard, telling him to come back, and then patiently waited for his boyfriend to return.

When Gerard came back downstairs, he had Zoe with him and patted the bed so she would jump up and lie beside Frank. 

“Everything okay?” Gerard asked, leaning down and kissing Frank on the mouth before curling up next to him. 

“Yeah…”

“You sure? You look upset.”

“I told Dad I have a boyfriend.”

“You didn’t tell him it was me though, right?” Gerard asked, eyes going a bit wide.

“No… I just said I was dating a guy and… I thought he’d be mad, but he said he didn’t care. It bugs him, I know it does, but he didn’t say anything bad about it…”

“He’s got nothing to complain about, Frank. You’re a good kid. He’s lucky you’re even giving him a chance to see you again,” Gerard said, kissing Frank’s cheek and smiling.

“I just didn’t want him to come here, find out, and then disappear forever,” Frank said, biting his lip and wincing at the pain.

“Gotta stop that,” Gerard said, reaching over and putting his finger on Frank’s lip—smearing the blood. 

“I know,” Frank mumbled. 

“Don’t stress yourself out. I’m not going to let anybody else hurt you. Not your dad—not anybody. Okay?” Gerard said, scooting closer and wrapping Frank up in his arms, making Frank lie his head on his chest. 

“Okay,” Frank said, rolling onto his side and cuddling into Gerard’s chest. Gerard kissed the top of his head and rubbed his back, comforting Frank as best he could. Frank slowly closed his eyes, willing himself into a light nap, but as soon as he felt himself nodding off, Donna called them both upstairs for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I obviously overshot with my idea in the last chapter to show my new character. Got a little carried away. So, new character NEXT chapter I promise--and if you haven't already guessed since I split the chapter in half, it's Frank's dad.


	58. Chapter 58

_Chapter 58_

Frank sat uncomfortably on the couch in his therapist’s office, shifting around occasionally and blowing his nose even though his cold had mostly left him by that point. His father was coming to visit him tomorrow and he knew he needed to talk about it, but he was nervous. What if his therapist told him it was a bad idea and he should cancel?

Maybe he should cancel… He was so nervous. 

Even if his dad had said he was okay with Frank having a boyfriend, Frank still didn’t believe him. He was terrified his dad would come and meet him—and then hate him and never speak to him again. He didn’t want that pain. He didn’t want to open himself up to more rejection.

Things were going fine for him the way they were. He and Gerard had become a real, legitimate couple, Donna had accepted him as a son, he’d had the most incredible holiday season of his life—he didn’t want to jeopardize all of those good things on a chance encounter with his father.

“How are you feeling, Frank?” His therapist asked.

“My dad’s going to come visit me tomorrow,” Frank blurted out, knowing if he didn’t do it now he would just stall and waste the entire appointment.

“Your father? You—you got back in touch with him over the holidays?”

Frank told her about the package and gifts and all the phone calls, finishing up with his father’s plans to visit and to bring his girlfriend Joy with him. His therapist managed to get Frank to confess that he wished Joy weren’t coming, but didn’t have the courage to tell his father not to bring her.

“I just want to meet my dad. He… He’s my—my _dad,_ you know? She’s…she’s just his girlfriend and…”

“Are you afraid you’ll meet her and possibly like her, and then she and your father might break up?”

“I don’t know,” Frank said.

“I know that you’re very guarded, Frank. You don’t want to let too many people in because you’ve been hurt a lot. Is that right?”

“Yeah,” Frank whispered. 

“Are you nervous you’ll feel pressured to like her and then you might end up losing her?”

“Maybe,” Frank mumbled. “Or…or she won’t like me and Dad won’t come back.”

“Can you tell me more about that?” His therapist asked.

Frank tried to explain his fears, that Joy would hate him the way his mother did or that he might do something to offend her and she’d take his father away. He was confident his father might not lose interest in him after a single visit, sure he could keep from offending the man right away, but could he work his charms on two people? What if he could fool his father into thinking he was good—the way he had Donna convinced he was good—but Joy saw through it and knew he was nothing but a sinner?

His therapist insisted that he was overthinking things. He had a right to be nervous and to not want to share reuniting with his father with his father’s lover, but he didn’t need to worry so much about everyone hating him or seeing through him to the evil demon he was so sure lived inside him. He was good, his therapist insisted. He was kind. He was pure of heart and he proved it every day, she says.

If only Frank could believe her. She looked at him and saw a good kid because he went to school like he was supposed to and didn’t do drugs or drink (aside from when Gerard was pouring the liquor for him). She didn’t know, though, that he’d slept with Gerard or that they’d gone all the way and done other, far more sinful things… If she did, Frank was sure she would understand why he was so worried about his father leaving him. Women, like Joy and Momma, had the ability to see through him. For some reason, his therapist couldn’t see the monster in him, but she would…eventually. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard knew Frank would be anxious and worried before his father arrived, but not like this. He’d thrown up twice since five a.m., preventing him from going to school on the Friday his father was scheduled to come visit, and slept on the bathroom floor until ten. Gerard, terrified that Frank had poisoned himself at some point in the night, sat on the floor beside him and kept checking his pulse and nudging him—preventing Frank from getting any real rest but reassuring himself that his boyfriend wasn’t dying in front of him. 

At ten-thirty, Donna made Frank get up off the floor and come to lie on the living room couch. She served him a light soup though Gerard insisted on being the one to cradle the bowl.

“I can eat by myself,” Frank whimpered, repeatedly trying to get the bowl away from Gerard.

“It’s hot. I don’t want you to burn yourself,” Gerard protested as he pressed another spoonful of soup to Frank’s lips. 

“Gerard, he’s not dying. He can feed himself,” his mother said, rolling her eyes as she sat down in her chair and changed the station of the tv to her daily soap operas. 

“I can do it,” Gerard said. “I want to take care of you,” he added, smiling at Frank as he readied another spoonful. It made Frank blush and quieted his protests about spoon-fed like a toddler for about ten minutes before, all of a sudden, he needed to be sick again. 

He barely made it to the trashcan in the kitchen in time.

“If he keeps throwing up, I’m not going to have his father here for dinner,” Donna said, not taking her eyes off the television screen. 

“It’s going to make it worse if his dad can’t come. He’ll feel responsible,” Gerard whispered, cringing as Frank’s gagging grew louder and louder. 

“He’s a nervous wreck.”

“Telling him his dad can’t come over isn’t going to help any,” Gerard argued. “He just needs help calming down. He’ll relax once his dad is here and he realizes he’s not…getting attacked or whatever the hell’s freaking him out.”

Gerard got up from the couch and went into the kitchen, going to where Frank stood by the trashcan and putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“Are you okay?”

“My stomach hurts really bad today,” Frank whispered.

“Did you get any sleep at all last night?”

“A little,” Frank confessed, straightening up and going over to the kitchen sink to rinse his mouth.

“Are you really that nervous about your dad coming over tonight?” Gerard asked, watching Frank with pitying eyes. It hurt him to see Frank in so much discomfort and all he could do was rest his head against Frank’s shoulder and nuzzle him, wanting to offer comfort and love but not sure how. 

“Not just Dad,” Frank said, his voice low so Donna couldn’t hear. “It’s… It’s everything. Him coming here means Mom has to cook more and…it’s inconvenient for everybody and—”

“It’s not inconvenient. Mom’s got food in the slow cooker already—she just doubled what she usually makes so there’s enough for everybody. That’s not inconvenient, Baby.”

Frank just whimpered and turned around to wrap his arms around Gerard’s torso, burying his head under his boyfriend’s chin and nuzzling him. 

“What if they don’t like me?” Frank asked.

“They’ll love you,” Gerard said, holding Frank gently, afraid to squeeze him in fear it might make his sick.

“Are you sure?” Frank asked, rutting his head against Gerard’s chest until Gerard finally did start holding him close. 

“Yes. You’re perfect, honey. You don’t need to be worrying so much.”

Frank whimpered and let Gerard guide him back to the couch to lie down. Gerard fetched his glasses of water and then, around noon, heated up another bowl of soup and was able to feed him. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank was shaking—visibly shaking—as he stared out the front window at the street where his father’s car had parked. He kept himself hidden behind the curtain, and backed away when the doorbell rang. As Donna went for the door, Gerard hurried to Frank and wrapped an arm around him in a sideways hug, kissing the top of his head for the last time until Frank’s father left for the evening. 

“It’s okay, Baby. I promise, it’s all going to be okay. If you start to get nervous, just remember what I told you okay? Do you remember?”

“Breathe,” Frank stammered. “And if I get sick, go upstairs.”

“Exactly. It’s okay, Baby. Nothing bad’s gonna happen. I’m here. If you need to, just text me at the table. I’ll send you all the little hearts you need to feel better. Okay?” Gerard asked, laughing just a little in hopes of calming his partner down. 

“Okay,” Frank said, smiling slightly and hugging Gerard in return briefly as Donna pulled open the door. 

The first thing Frank heard was a woman’s voice—a nasal voice—shouting out a cheerful, long “Hi!” Then there were arms wrapping around Donna in a far too friendly embrace for a first encounter—one of the other woman’s hands awkwardly clutching onto a large, plastic food container as she hugged Donna. 

Once Donna was free of the embrace, she backed away from the door and gestured for the guests to come inside. Gerard tried to pull away from Frank as the blonde woman stepped into the house before Frank’s father even could, but Frank instantly ducked behind him like a shy child. 

“Sorry we’re late,” the woman said as she peered around the room—her heavily made up eyes landing on Gerard as she grinned. 

“Yeah, somebody had to change six times before she would get in the car,” came another, male voice as Frank’s father stepped into the house as well. He was short, like his son, and heavyset with a large beer belly poking out over the waistband of his blue jeans. 

At the sound of his voice, Frank reached forward and grabbed onto the back of Gerard’s shirt—still hiding behind him.

“Frankie, come on,” Gerard whispered, stepping aside and grabbing Frank’s shoulder, forcing the boy out in front of him. Frank’s breaths were coming fast and shaking as he started to panic, his eyes fixed on the man who’d walked out on him so long ago without a second thought—without even trying to check on him and see if he were alright. “It’s okay,” Gerard whispered. “There’s nothing to be scared of. I’m here.”

He kept his voice as low as he possibly could, speaking directly into Frank’s ear, yet all eyes immediately turned to them. The skinny—sickly thin—woman who’d come with Frank’s father began _beaming_ at them, knowing right away that the timid little creature cowering in front of Gerard was her boyfriend’s long lost son. 

“Oh my _god._ Look, hon’!—He looks just like you!” The woman exclaimed. 

Her enthusiasm just made Frank more nervous and he pressed back against Gerard, holding his breath even. His father was looking at him too, but the man had yet to speak. To Gerard, it looked as if he were in shock—possibly because his girlfriend was wrong. Frank looked nothing like his father. He looked like his mother and the only person who didn’t think so was Linda herself—and now Joy, as well. 

“Is this food?” Donna asked, grasping onto the plastic container Joy had in her hand.

“Oh! Yeah—I made a pie for dessert. Frank said somethin’ about Little Frankie being lactose intolerant or somethin’, so I made it with this milk substitute—”

“Lactose free,” her boyfriend corrected, still staring at Frank who seemed incapable of moving or speaking though he’d started breathing again—much slower now. 

“Yeah! Right, right. Lactose free milk. It’s cherry,” the woman said.

“I’m sure it’s wonderful,” Donna said, flashing a pained, fake smile. “Why don’t you come help me in the kitchen—Joy, isn’t it?”

“Yes! I’m Joy.” She batted her eyelashes and grinned at Donna, then turned to smile at Frank and Gerard as well. 

“Why don’t we go in the kitchen and give the boys some space,” Donna said. “Gerard?”

“Yeah, I’m coming,” Gerard said, passing one last glance to Frank—wishing he could kiss his cheek or hug him but afraid to give their relationship away—and then stepped away into the kitchen, leaving Frank to fend for himself. 

As soon as he was gone—as soon as Donna and Joy had left the entry way—Frank’s heart started beating even faster. At first, he couldn’t even look at his father and settled for staring at the floor, but when he heard the man stepping closer and closer, Frank made himself look up. When he and his father locked gazes, Frank felt suddenly compelled to speak—to say something, anything, yet nothing meaningful came to mind. 

All he could say was, “You remembered I’m lactose intolerant?”

“I remember a lot of things about you,” his dad said. It seemed ominous when he didn’t smile and suddenly Frank was fearful that the man might add something cruel—like he remembered Frank was a monster, a needy infant that always cried, or a spoiled little demon. “But I guess…those things probably don’t matter now. I don’t think your favorite thing to do is hide Matchbox cars in my microwave anymore, so I guess we’ll have to find something else to do tonight.”

Frank smiled a little, still nervous but relaxing just slightly. His father wasn’t looking at him with hatred, he didn’t look angry to be here or irritated. 

“It seems like a…nice house,” his father said when Frank still hadn’t responded to him.

“It is. Mom’s really nice—Donna, I mean. She—She’s really great.”

“Yeah, she seems nice,” his father said.

“Joy seems…nice,” Frank said, even though his first impression of her was that she was too loud and made him anxious with her abundance of enthusiasm about being here.

“It doesn’t bother you that she’s here, does it? I thought you might like to meet her. I didn’t think it over too much.”

“It’s fine,” Frank said, biting his bottom lip. Did his dislike for her show that easily? He was sure if she was around more he’d get to like her better. He really didn’t want to disappoint his father by showing disapproval for his girlfriend.

“Are you sure? You seem—”

“I’m—I’m sorry, I… I just get really nervous,” Frank stammered, his breathing starting to become shaky again. He was so worried he was going to ruin this—maybe even hopeful that he would, just so it would be over. His father would get angry and leave and Frank would never hear from him again—he’d never have to wonder again if this was real, if his father really wanted to reconnect or if he just felt compelled. 

“You got nothing to be nervous about,” his father said, flashing him a smile and then stepping closer. He was going for a hug and Frank had to force himself to reciprocate. It scared him when he felt his father’s arms wrap around him and he held his breath again. 

Even so, it didn’t feel so bad. Don, Frank knew, had never been very fond of him and never would be—at least not in the way that Donna was. But maybe his real father would care for him instead. Frank didn’t need two fathers, and he wondered that if he had his actual father’s affections, it wouldn’t hurt so much that Don didn’t like him. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Donna didn’t like this situation any more than Gerard did—or Frank, or Frank’s father, or anyone else for that matter. It was tense despite attempts at humor made over the dinner table or polite comments about the house or Frank’s haircut or the meal. It seemed as soon as Frank would calm down, he’d get a thought in his head that would make him start sweating again—having to set down his fork and swallow hard a few times to fight the lump in his throat.

He seemed to be scared of his father’s girlfriend—Joy—though Donna couldn’t understand why. The woman was brainless. Absolutely brainless. And Donna was pretty sure the woman had gone to the bathroom twice during dinner to take some sort of drug to keep up all her peppy energy. But she made Frank nervous. If she said something she thought was funny, Frank tried to laugh for her even when his father wouldn’t and just shook her head. 

There was a short time when the tension seemed to dissipate—Frank Sr. telling a couple stories about Frank when he was a baby that appealed to Donna’s baby-nostalgia. There were cute stories about Frank’s first attempts at talking—though his father regretted to admit he didn’t remember Frank’s first word—and how, at around a year and a half old, it sounded like he shouted “fuck” at a man in a grocery store which earned the small family a lot of uncomfortable stares. He talked about Frank being a sickly baby and going to the doctors’ a lot—which Donna responded to with a story of her own about how sick of a child Mikey had been. The exchange made Mikey roll his eyes, and he then returned to feeding Zoe scraps underneath the table.

But as quickly as the tension faded, it appeared again as Frank started getting anxious for no reason. Things were going well and that seemed to be his cue. When things went well, he expected the bottom to drop out.

“Are you okay?” His father asked him when Frank had set down his fork again and started shaking.

“He’s fine,” Gerard said—his first real contribution of the night. “He gets nervous.”

“Aw—there’s nothin’ to be worried about,” Joy said.

“He doesn’t need reasons; he just worries,” Gerard said, sending Frank a little smile and wink—telling him he was teasing.

Donna didn’t appreciate the joke. She didn’t want Frank to take it the wrong way and start panicking about Gerard hating him as well as his dad not liking him or whatever fears Frank had in his head. However, Frank understood Gerard’s intentions and smiled a little—probably just happy to have Gerard’s attention again. 

After dinner, Mikey went upstairs to his room while the rest of the family went into the living room to continue making conversation and watch television. Frank sat next to Zoe on the floor, and even though his father had started trying to talk more time him exclusively, Frank proved to have difficulty upholding the conversation. Even when his father asked him about his broken arm, Frank had a lot of trouble explaining and Gerard had to fill in the little details. 

Frank Sr. admired the drawings on Frank’s cast, but his demeanor immediately shifted when Frank smiled and said Gerard had drawn them for him. He didn’t say anything out loud, but he sent Gerard a suspicious glance and then started asking Frank about the boyfriend he’d mentioned on the phone. 

It seemed that this was the first Joy had heard of it before her eyes went wide and she looked at Frank as though he’d grown another head—or demon wings.

“H-he goes to my sc-school,” Frank said, his whole body starting to tremble. The light left his eyes and he ducked his head in shame. “He’s really nice.”

“Has he got a name?” His father asked.

“K-Kyle,” Frank said. 

Donna didn’t know why, but Gerard let out a low sigh and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back more heavily against the couch. She couldn’t believe that he was that irritated by Frank throwing out a fake name—unless Kyle was someone they knew, someone Gerard was legitimately jealous of. 

Frank took note of the gesture and bit his lip though his father didn’t catch the exchange. It was impossible to get Frank to really open up any more after that. Especially not after Gerard got up and went down to their room, pretending to being going to bed early to be ready for work.

( ) ( ) ( )

As soon as Frank hugged his father and, unfortunately, Joy goodbye, he hurried down to his basement bedroom. Gerard was sat at his desk sketching with his headphones on, meaning he didn’t want bothered, but Frank just couldn’t bear to stand there in silence. He slowly crept over to his boyfriend and tapped his shoulder, afraid to hug him or kiss him like he might on a different day. He was scared Gerard would lash out at him or actually strike him. 

Once Frank tapped him, Gerard reached up and took off his headphones, then turned around in his chair. He didn’t smile or speak a word of greeting—he just looked at Frank with one eyebrow raised.

“G-Gerard?” Frank stammered.

“You wanna tell me why Kyle was the first name that came to your mind?” Gerard asked.

“I-I don’t know,” Frank said, shaking even still. “I-I just threw out a name—”

“Would you like it if it Ben were the first name I threw out?” Gerard asked.

Frank frowned and bit his lip. Ben was Gerard’s ex—the one who wanted to get back together with him. It hurt Frank to even hear it mentioned.

“K-Kyle and I didn’t date,” he whimpered, trying to defend himself. He had enough stress today. He didn’t want to have to deal with this too. 

“You sucked him off,” Gerard said. “Then you tell your dad he’s your boyfriend?”

Frank cringed and ducked his head, tears rushing him. He didn’t understand why Gerard was being so _mean._ Kyle’s was just the first name to come to his mind. He _really_ hadn’t meant anything by it. 

“I just threw out a name,” Frank said, sniffing and taking a step back from Gerard. “What was I supposed to say!?”

“Why did you even have to tell our dad about us in the first place? The minute he asked about your cast and you looked at me, he thought something was going on between us.”

Frank thought of this morning, when Gerard brought him soup and even before then—when Gerard sat with him on the bathroom floor and comforted him. How had all of that affection turned to this?

“I’m sorry,” Frank whimpered. “I thought he’d hate me if I told him I had a boyfriend. I didn’t want him to come here if he was going to hate me so I told him.”

“Well you should’ve expected him to start asking about it.”

“I’m sorry!” Frank said, biting his lip as he fought tears. “I didn’t think about it—I just said a random name—”

“But it’s _not_ a random name. It’s a guy you—”

“Before I even met you! That’s not fair! He was mean to me, Gerard!—He’s part of the reason I’m even _here,”_ Frank said, gesturing to the room. “Momma found out about that and she was never the same. If she didn’t hear about that video I don’t think she would’ve hurt me like she did. I don’t _like_ Kyle. _Please_ don’t do this now,” Frank whimpered.

Gerard stared at him a moment and then sighed, his face softening. He seemed to understand now that he had nothing to be afraid of—or maybe he saw just how much his suspicion hurt Frank’s feelings.

“I’m sorry, Baby,” Gerard said. “I should… I should’ve known that. I’m sorry.”

“Kyle is one of the meanest people I know,” Frank said, anger and hurt gripping him. He didn’t want to lash out at Gerard—he didn’t want to chase away the person he needed to hold him and calm him down after the stress of today—but to be _accused_ of even liking someone else (especially someone as filthy and conniving as Kyle) hurt terribly. 

“I know,” Gerard said, starting to look the slightest bit ashamed. 

“I’m not like you and _Ben,”_ Frank hissed. “If Kyle ever even asked to see me again to do homework I’d spit in the face.”

“What do you mean you’re not like me and Ben? There’s nothing going on between me and Ben—you were there. You saw to it that nothing happened.” Gerard’s shame being quickly replaced by irritation. 

“I had to! You were all—all…” Frank stammered a few times, unable to find the right word. He wasn’t happy when he saw Ben, but he wasn’t angry or sad either. He’d looked excited. He’d looked nervous and _shy,_ not embarrassed or made uneasy by the chance encounter. 

“I was in shock, Baby,” Gerard said, throwing out the pet name to keep Frank from lashing out. Gerard, it seemed, was the only one allowed to get angry and throw out accusations. 

“If I weren’t there, you would’ve given him your number in a heartbeat,” Frank spat. 

“No I wouldn’t.”

“Yes you would! You _like_ him, and he still likes _you!_ ”

“He liked to jerk me around, Frank. That’s all he was good for,” Gerard said, standing up from his desk and pacing a moment before going to his bed and sitting down. “Half the scars on my fucking leg are from him—because of him. He—he would do this shit all the time where he said he was going to meet me somewhere, take me somewhere, we were gonna do something great together—and then I’d wait and wait and he’d never fucking show up. And I would sit there for _hours_ waiting for him, you know? Just waiting. And he’d never show up and he’d _never_ call.”

Frank watched as Gerard’s face crumpled, pained by his bad memories. Frank felt sorry for him, but it didn’t change anything. Gerard hurt him—Gerard was pretty much accusing him of having feelings for someone else, someone mean and not even half as good as Gerard—and Frank was ready to forgive. He could empathize, but he wouldn’t forget.

“He had this way of making me feel so cheap,” Gerard mumbled, looking at Frank sadly and then ducking his head when he didn’t see the pity he had to expect on his little boyfriend’s face. “Yeah, part of me wondered if…if I talked to him again if he’d apologize, but I know he won’t. And that’s what freaks me out with you and that fuckin’ Kyle kid. If he comes up and apologizes and says his friends put him up to it but he still really likes you, are you gonna believe him? Are you gonna go back to him?

“I don’t even _like_ Kyle,” Frank protested. “Why don’t you trust me? I-I do everything to show you I love you. I-I freak out when you don’t talk to me. You really think I’m going to give you up for some _asshole_ like Kyle?” Frank was shaking again, not sure if it was from anger or fear. He didn’t like standing up to Gerard. It was easier for him to just bow his head and accept all of the guilt and blame passed onto him. But tonight was different. He felt that if he just accepted what Gerard said then they would be over. Gerard wouldn’t trust him—if Gerard ever even trusted him at all—and he’d grow suspicious and withhold the love Frank fed on.

“I know you love me,” Gerard said.

“That’s not what I asked—I asked if you thought I’d give you up for Kyle! Do you really think that?”

“No,” Gerard said, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I just… I know you wouldn’t. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve to have me freaking out on you tonight. I know you’re sick—I know you’re stressed out. I’m sorry.”

Frank didn’t want to let the argument go. He wanted to make Gerard listen to him—believe him—but was at a loss for what else to say. 

When Gerard looked up at him again and gestured for Frank to come sit beside him, Frank obeyed and went to lie at Gerard’s side, accepting it when Gerard wrapped his arms around him. 

“I’m sorry, Baby,” Gerard whispered, nuzzling the back of Frank’s neck. “I don’t know what I was thinking…”

Frank hummed, unwilling to say that everything was fine and that all was forgiven. At least, though, Frank no longer had to worry himself sick over meeting his father. Now his mind just kept spinning about where he went wrong to leave doubt in Gerard’s mind—and wondering if Gerard were just looking for an easy way out of their constricting love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure how I feel about this chapter...but that's what happens when you write half asleep. Sorry for the loopy narrative in the middle sections. Sleep typing is bad for all!


	59. Chapter 59

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting--been working non-stop the past few days and I decided I didn't like this chapter the way I wrote it the first time. Hopefully it doesn't disappoint!

_Chapter 59_

Frank woke up to Gerard shaking him, then kissing his neck and throat.

“What?” Frank moaned sleepily, trying to push Gerard away. 

Gerard just kept kissing him, starting to rub his sides and run his hands up Frank’s night shirt. 

“Stop,” Frank whined rolling onto his side and curling up. Gerard continued trying to touch him, even starting to shake Frank’s shoulder to further rouse him. “What?” Frank whimpered. “I’m tired—what?”

“I love you,” Gerard said, as if that were an explanation. “I’m sorry about what I said.”

“Love you too,” Frank moaned, shrugging off Gerard’s touch. “I’m sleeping.”

“Come on, Baby. Come here.” Gerard forced Frank to roll back over and climbed over him. Frank caved and let Gerard kiss him on the mouth, parting his lips to allow for tongue. He was still half asleep, but his body began to respond, his skin tingling and prickling as one of Gerard’s hands slid up his shirt again. “I love you so much. So fucking much. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He whispered the words into Frank’s ear, then kissed it, then licked down the side of his neck.

“Okay, but—but I’m _sleepy._ Gerard!” Frank whimpered and squirmed away again. “I just want to go back to sleep.” Even if he was getting a little bit turned on from all the kissing and touches, he was still mad at Gerard for what he said about Kyle. 

“Aw… Come on, Baby.”

“No!” Frank snapped, more whiny than assertive, but it seemed Gerard finally got the message. He let out a heavy sigh and curled up against Frank’s back, an arm hooked protectively around him, keeping Frank close. “I love you,” Frank said, fearing if he didn’t say it, Gerard might think he didn’t like him anymore. 

“I love you too, Baby. So much,” Gerard whispered, kissing the back of Frank’s neck and then nuzzling his hair. “You’re so perfect.”

“I’m not perfect,” Frank said. 

“Mm, yes you are,” Gerard said, chuckling softly as he squeezed Frank a little tighter. “So little and so _perfect,_ he added, starting to sound a little sleepy himself. 

“You just don’t want me mad at you anymore,” Frank said.

“Mmhm,” Gerard hummed. “I love my baby.”

“I love you too,” Frank said, smiling and rolling his eyes. He had had trouble falling asleep, even with Gerard beside him, thinking—worrying—that his boyfriend would still be frustrated and upset with him in the morning. But after this, Frank was starting to realize fights weren’t so bad. They could move forward, even if everything wasn’t exactly resolved. 

“I really love you,” Gerard hummed, nuzzling Frank’s neck a little more. 

He was being so affectionate now and so kind… Frank really felt awful for refusing him. They were a couple, and couples were supposed to do sex things to make up after fights. He wasn’t really in the mood, but he could get there if he woke up a little more and Gerard touched him a little.

As it was, Gerard’s hand was started to stroke Frank’s stomach, slowly inching under his shirt. Frank laid still and let it happen, his breathing becoming deeper and deeper as his stomach twisted in anticipation. Once Gerard’s palm slid under the hem of Frank’s shirt, the boy’s eyes fluttered. His skin prickled until finally Gerard’s fingertips brushed over his nipple. Frank’s whole body went stiff and he held his breath as Gerard started rolling the hardening bud between his fingers.

“Baby?” Gerard whispered, his lips pressed close to Frank’s ear. 

Frank trembled and rolled onto his back, accepting it when Gerard climbed over top him. Gerard continued to tease Frank’s chest as their mouths locked together. Frank began moaning softly, lifting his hips up a little to get friction. In return, Gerard started grinding against him, pinching his nipple once hard before pulling back completely.

“What?” Frank whimpered.

“I wanna use a toy,” Gerard said.

“B-But…” Frank didn’t really want to, but he couldn’t think up a logical protest. Gerard would just keep pushing anyway. He always did.

“Hm?”

“Which t-toy?” Frank asked, swallowing hard. 

“You seem nervous,” Gerard said, reaching down to stroke Frank’s cheek from his place straddling the boy’s hips. “Are you okay?”

“I… I don’t see why we can’t just…t-touch each other. You know? Just… Just us?”

“Do you… Do you not like the toys?” Gerard asked. He sounded a little hurt and that made Frank feel even worse for protesting.

“I… I just want to feel you,” Frank whispered, reaching up to grab Gerard’s hips, hoping to keep him still in case the older man tried to slip away.

“Oh, you just wanna feel me, huh?” Gerard asked, smirking and leaning down again, kissing Frank on the mouth, Frank quickly hooked his arms around Gerard’s shoulders and held him tight, terrified he’d try to pull away in order to grab one of their toys—probably the beads.

Gerard was obsessed with trying to get Frank to use them, but Frank didn’t like anything about them—not the way they looked or even how Gerard said they’d make him feel. To Frank, they were awkward and embarrassing, not even the slightest bit fun or sexy. 

However, Gerard just kept kissing him and then slid his hand back inside Frank’s shirt. When he started teasing Frank’s nipple with his thumb, Frank let out a soft sigh and closed his eyes. He let his body go limp, allowing Gerard to do whatever he liked—caress him, stroke him, undress him. He didn’t even resist as the first spit-slick finger was pressed inside 

Gerard was still kissing him, their tongues sliding together as Gerard started twisting his finger around until pressing it against Frank’s sweet spot, making the boy’s spine arch. Frank couldn’t stop squirming underneath him, keeping Gerard trapped in the kiss by clutching his arms and scratching his shoulders through his t-shirt. 

He wished it could stay like this. He missed how it used to be—back when they were first together—where Gerard would let him finish and not expect anything in return. Frank worried about what Gerard would want now. They’d gone all the way before, would Gerard want that now? Why stop at fingers when he could fit his sin inside? 

And that seemed to be where this way going—Gerard fit a second finger inside and then broke their kiss in order to reach for his end table, fumbling to get the drawer open. 

Frank watched Gerard’s hand with bated breath, his face blanching when Gerard pulled out their bottle of lubricant and then one of the foil-wrapped condoms. 

He didn’t even ask first. 

Frank didn’t know what to do. As soon as the kissing stopped, when Gerard pulled back and took his fingers away to add more lube. He couldn’t say no… They’d done it before. What excuse could he have? 

He closed his eyes as Gerard pressed his fingers back inside—two at once, then the third. The stretch made Frank gasp, his eyes stinging with tears.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Gerard whispered, kissing Frank’s cheek. “It’ll stop it a minute. Remember?—Just like last time.”

“G-Gerard?” Frank whispered, his voice trembling. 

“What, Baby?” Gerard asked, kissing Frank’s neck as he continued to move his fingers in and out. Frank couldn’t think with that happening. His mind was stuck—trapped—going back and forth between talking himself up to tell Gerard to stop and thinking of all the reasons he couldn’t say no. If he said no, Gerard might dump him—might not like him anymore. Might go to someone else like _Ben_ who would do what Gerard wanted. “What’s the matter?”

It was dark so Gerard couldn’t see the fear in his face, even as he kissed his cheeks and forehead. Frank knew if Gerard saw, he’d stop. 

Or, at least, he hoped Gerard would stop. As it was, Frank wasn’t completely sure anymore. 

“It hurts,” Frank whispered.

“I know,” Gerard said. “It’ll stop and it’ll start to feel good. I promise. Just like last time.”

Frank’s breaths started to come a little shakier as Gerard pressed the three fingers in deeper. It hurt—it hurt badly. He didn’t want to feel any more pain. All he’d wanted was to sleep. They’d _fought_ earlier. Frank didn’t _want_ this right now.

A fear that suddenly struck Frank was that Gerard knew he didn’t want it. What if Gerard knew and was doing it on purpose as punishment? Was this punishment? Was this what boyfriends did when they were mad? Maybe this was how Gerard proved his point—that Frank was in the wrong and now he had to pay for it.

The thought made the first tear fall, rolling in a hot stream down his cheek and splashing onto the pillowcase beneath his head. He was terrified. He no longer felt safe under Gerard—he felt scared, waiting for the kisses to turn to bites, waiting for all the kind touches to go away in place of pinching or slaps. 

Frank couldn’t think of anything he’d really done wrong to deserve this, whimpering as Gerard started spreading his fingers, opening Frank up. It was hurting so badly and Frank knew it would only get worse when Gerard decided it was time to force his length inside. Frank was terrified for when that moment would come.

“You’re so tense,” Gerard said, his voice quiet and gentle. 

“I-I…” Frank stammered, a tremor running through his body. He wanted to say he was scared—but wasn’t that what Gerard wanted? If that was to punish him, didn’t Gerard want him afraid?

More tears fell as Frank thought back to all of their happy times—their warm times together where Gerard made him feel so loved, so _coveted,_ like he was something special. Now he made Frank feel cold and helpless. 

“If you relax it won’t hurt so much… Are you okay?”

Frank whimpered, not sure what to say. 

“Baby?”

“It… It hurts,” Frank whispered.

“It stops though,” Gerard said.

Frank didn’t know why, but the words broke him. It made him feel that his pain didn’t matter. It would stop eventually so he didn’t need to complain. He felt more than ever that Gerard _wanted_ him to experience this pain. It took away all the good feelings Frank had ever had and left him feeling so cold—so unloved and so underserving of love. 

All he did was accidentally say his boyfriend was Kyle, now Gerard was making him suffer and he couldn’t handle it. He didn’t want a boyfriend if this was what happened. He wanted to be alone—all alone—for the rest of his life. Untouchable where no one could hurt him again—not in any way. 

He couldn’t take any more. A sob broke out and he brought his hands up to cover his face. Immediately, Gerard pulled away, taking his fingers out in one slow, drawn out, torturous motion—making Frank feel every single centimeter. It made him cry harder as he rolled onto his side, curling up to hide himself even though it was too dark for Gerard to see his sin or his flesh. 

“Baby?—Frankie? Hey. Hey, it’s okay. We’ll stop, okay? Don’t cry.”

Even though Gerard was reassuring him that the pain was going to stop—the punishment over—Frank couldn’t calm himself down. He just kept sobbing, barely able to breathe. It felt as if the entire world were collapsing in on him. The love and protection he’d found in Gerard was gone now. He felt alone and scared—helpless. 

“Frank, breathe—you’re not breathing.” Gerard was shaking him now, rocking him back and forth. “Baby, come on. It’s okay. Nothing else is going to happen. You’re okay.” 

Frank didn’t feel soothed though. He was terrified Gerard would wait for him to calm down, then start trying to seduce him again—thinking he didn’t learn his lesson. Momma never stopped just because he cried. She stopped when she knew he understood he’d been wrong.

“I’m sorry I said Kyle,” Frank whimpered, trying to prove to Gerard that he knew what he’d done wrong. 

“I-I… Frank, we’ve been through this. _I_ was the one who was being stupid, not you. It’s fine. Is… Is that why you’re crying?” 

Frank shook his head and cringed away from Gerard’s touch when he tried to stroke Frank’s shoulder. 

“Baby…”

Frank didn’t know what to do. He was frightened and anxious, terrified he’d do something wrong and trigger Gerard to snap at him—hurt him. 

“Oh, God,” Gerard whispered, suddenly slumping down onto the mattress beside Frank and then pulling Frank back against his chest. Frank was able to bite back a noise of fear and laid trembling, letting Gerard do as he pleased so long as it didn’t hurt anymore. “I’m sorry, Baby. I pushed too much, didn’t I?” 

Frank couldn’t answer.

“Oh no… What did I do?” Gerard mumbled to himself, squeezing Frank a little tighter. “What did I do… I’m so sorry. I pushed you too hard. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Baby.”

Frank laid still, caged in Gerard’s arms, and trembled, listening—for what seemed like hours—to Gerard’s whispered apologies and pleas for forgiveness.

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard didn’t sleep at all—not one single second all night. All he could do was lie there, clutching onto Frank—occasionally kissing his neck or shoulder—and stew in his own self-loathing. He’d pushed Frank too far. He’d made him cry. He’d ignored Frank over and over when he said it was hurting. 

For Frank, saying it hurt was as close to “stop” as he could come. The boy had a mental block—a fear of upsetting people. If Gerard asked something of him, Frank would want to do as he was told. He’d want to make Gerard happy with him, even if that meant hurting himself.

Gerard felt sick with himself.

He’d hurt Frank. He’d _molested_ him. Even though Frank had calmed down enough to sleep and didn’t protest to sleeping at Gerard’s side, Gerard wasn’t ready for what the morning would have to offer. 

This wasn’t something Frank would forget. Gerard broke his trust. He pushed past all of Frank’s limits and barriers. He knew Frank was shy and anxious by nature. He _knew_ that, and yet he’d decided to push for more and more.

And after a _fight_ too… Gerard felt so stupid—so _evil_ and disgusting. Frank trusted him with the world. Frank would do anything he said, and he used that power to _break_ him. Not on purpose, but he’d still caused it. 

Sighing, Gerard pressed closer to Frank, nuzzling the back of his neck. Frank made a quiet, sleepy sound but otherwise didn’t stir. He’d been like this earlier in the night and Gerard had been compelled to wake him—trying to prove he was sorry by kissing him better only to end up ruining everything he’d worked toward. 

“I’m sorry, Baby,” Gerard whispered, even though Frank couldn’t hear. He pressed closer to the boy, terrified that this might be the last chance he’d get to hold him, feel him…

By the time the sun started to rise and the pale, blue light bled through the curtains, Gerard was having trouble even managing to breathe. He felt like he were being smothered, the weight of his own actions too much for him to bear. 

He felt so guilty, so foul and dirty. 

How could he have let himself hurt Frank?

_How?_


	60. Chapter 60

_Chapter 60_

Frank stared at himself in the mirror, examining every inch of skin he could see as his stomach twisted up in knots. It had been over a week since _it_ happened and Frank had barely spoken—barely eaten. He didn’t sleep, even in his own bed all by himself. He tried not to look at Gerard, tried to ignore Gerard staring at him and trying to touch him—trying to get hugs or kisses or anything similar to show affection and prove Frank still loved him. 

Frank did love him, at least he thought he did. It hurt to not get his kisses anymore. It hurt to sleep alone when he was so used to cuddling up beside someone warm. He felt so lonely, but getting close to Gerard just filled him with fear. He still couldn’t shake the feeling of helplessness he’d had that night. In those minutes he’d been so sure that Gerard was about to take him and make him go all the way regardless of whether it hurt or not. He thought Gerard wanted to hurt him, and he still felt that way. 

After all, how could Gerard love him? He was so _ugly._ He’d gotten so _fat_ since he’d moved in with Donna. He’d gotten more new pants, and yet those pants were now getting tight. As soon as he got new clothes, he outgrew them and he was almost certain he weighed twice what he had before when he’d lived with his mother. 

How could Gerard love someone who looked like him? Fat, scarred up, damaged, bad in bed…

Tears started falling and Frank lowered his head, not looking at his reflection but seeing something worse. Instead of what he used to see—the flesh of his sin—now all he could see was his protruding stomach. In some respects he was thankful he didn’t have to see the discolored scars on his intimate places, but knowing they were there still caused him pain. 

He was damaged. He was imperfect. He didn’t deserve Gerard’s love—even his cruel, pushy, insensitive love. 

“Frank? Come on… You need to come out.”

Frank flinched and turned to look at the door as Gerard knocked on it. His voice was sad and hurt, as though it pained him to have his filthy boyfriend hiding from him. 

“Frank?”

Still, Frank stood and stared at the locked door as Gerard rattled the knob and knocked again.

“Baby… Please come out.”

Frank opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He’d hardly spoken a word to Gerard since what happened. That morning after, Frank had just sat in the bed with his head lowered while Gerard apologized again and again. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe the apologies, he just felt Gerard was apologizing for the wrong reasons. He was sorry he’d hurt Frank—because it made Frank cry and ended his plans prematurely. That was why he was sorry. He didn’t care that Frank had been hurting. He didn’t care that Frank had been frightened. He cared that Frank made it so he didn’t get sex…

Gerard loved sex, not Frank. 

Never Frank. 

Never ever…

“Frank? Are you okay?” Gerard knocked on the door a little harder and then tested the knob again. “Baby?”

“I-I’m fine,” Frank said, grabbing his clothes off the floor and starting to get dressed again.

“What are you doing?”

“G-Getting dressed,” Frank stammered.

“You’ve gotta leave for therapy in a couple minutes… What are you doing in there?”

“Putting on clothes!” Frank snapped, hoping the anger might make Gerard back off. He had no reason to be getting dressed in the bathroom—he hadn’t taken a shower, he’d just gone upstairs to pee and got distracted by the mirror. 

“Baby…what’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Frank whimpered. 

“Frank, I… Okay. Alright. Mom’s waiting for you downstairs, okay? So…don’t take long.”

Frank filled with guilt as he heard Gerard walk away. It wasn’t fair that Gerard hurt him so much so easily and yet Frank still felt horrible for making him even the slightest bit unhappy. 

Once he was dressed, Frank opened the bathroom door and started down the stairs, his head still low as he tried to avoid Donna’s gaze. He put on the winter coat his father had gotten him for Christmas but didn’t feel any comfort. 

As he was about to open the door to go outside, it startled him when Donna spoke up.

“Gerard? You’re coming too.”

“What?” Frank asked, his head snapping up and his eyes widening in fear. He didn’t want Gerard to go. He didn’t want to be in the car with him—he wanted to go to his therapy session and have a moment away from Gerard. School was the only escape he got besides therapy and the times Gerard was at work—and he’d started working day shift more and more meaning Frank saw him every night at dinner time. 

“What?” Gerard asked, creeping up from the basement. “Why am I going?”

“I already called his therapist. Something happened between you two and you’re not dealing with it—so I’m dealing with it for you.”

“But—But, Momma, h-he’s…he can’t go!” Frank choked out. 

“I’ve been asking you for days what’s wrong and you won’t say anything to me. I can’t live with this much tension. I’m about to lose my mind.” Donna wouldn’t look at him as she said it. She just fussed with her keychain, pretending it needed organized. “Gerard, get your shoes on. Let’s go. We’re going to be late.”

Frank swallowed hard as he watched Gerard get ready. He didn’t want Gerard to go. If he told his therapist what happened, Gerard could be arrested. Frank wanted to pull Donna aside and tell her, but he was afraid she might throw Gerard out and he didn’t want that to happen either.

That helplessness he felt after Gerard had hurt him only grew worse. He wanted to turn and run down the street, run to Jamia’s apartment to hide, but he knew he couldn’t. There was nothing he could do.

Gerard was going to get caught and be taken away no matter what. All Frank could do was sit in the car with his head down, shaking in fear and feeling sicker by the second. Even if Gerard didn’t get arrested right away, Frank didn’t want to discuss what happened—he didn’t want to relive it. He just wanted to forget. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard couldn’t believe this was happening. He was sitting on the therapists couch next to his boyfriend who was shaking so hard the lampshade on the table beside him was swaying, and the therapist was scowling at him so darkly with just her eyes. She looked at Gerard and she saw a pedophile even before she began her questions. She thought him sick, she thought him uncaring—god only knows what she thought of him after all the things Frank could possibly have said. 

“So Donna told me on the phone that you two have started to…maybe not get along so well. Is that right?”

“We… Well, we’re not fighting or anything,” Gerard said after a long period of silence where Frank just sat there trembling.

“No?”

“No, not…not really,” Gerard looked at Frank who was repeatedly swallowing hard and starting to sweat. “Baby, you should take off your coat.”

“No,” Frank said quickly. 

“Okay,” Gerard said, turning away. 

“Frank, is there anything you’d like to say about…about what happened between you two?”

Frank shook his head and kept shaking. He was about to be sick and Gerard started looking around the room for a trash can for him. 

“Would you like some water, Frank?” the therapist asked.

Frank hesitated, then nodded. The therapist stood up from her chair and stepped out of the room briefly, leaving the door cracked just a little. 

“Baby, do you want me to leave? We don’t have to do this,” Gerard said.

“I-I d-don’t know,” Frank stammered, swallowing hard again. “I d-don’t w-want you mad at m-me.”

“I’m not _mad_ at you—would you stop? You need to calm down. You’re not breathing, Baby.”

“D-Don’t want you arrested,” Frank choked out. “Don’t want M-Mom in tr-trouble. We can’t do this—Gerard, w-we can’t do this.” His breaths were coming so fast and shallow, about to drive him into a full blown panic attack.

“Frankie, calm down. It’s okay. You don’t need to worry about me. We’re here for you—to help you get better. Don’t…don’t worry so much.” It was hard to calm him down when Gerard had the same fear deep in his chest. 

Frank’s therapist may have looked the other way when Frank told him about having an older boyfriend—even when his older boyfriend was his foster brother, even when the relationship became sexual. But she wasn’t going to turn a blind eye to this. As soon as Frank said Gerard had molested him, she was going to call CPS. Frank would be taken away, Gerard would prosecuted… It would be over. All of it would be over.

Just as Gerard was about to suggest to Frank that they avoid the subject, the therapist returned with a glass of ice water for Frank. His hands trembled as he accepted it, but it did seem to calm his breathing as he took a few slow sips. 

“So, Gerard, you said that you two didn’t have a fight. Would you care to elaborate on that?” The therapist asked once she’d gotten back to her seat.

“I-It was more…more of a misunderstanding.”

“What kind of a misunderstanding? A…verbal misunderstanding? An argument?”

“No…” Gerard said, looking over to Frank, hoping he’d say something but realizing fast that Frank was just going to sit and drink from his glass until it was empty. The multiple tiny sips were calming him down, but it was obvious that the therapist was more interested in what he had to say. Frank was her patient, not Gerard.

“Frank?” The therapist asked.

Frank looked up at her nervously, but didn’t speak. 

“I really need you to tell me what happened so we can focus on communication. I know you have a lot of trouble expressing your feelings, especially to Gerard, and I’d like to help you. Are you okay with him being here?”

She’d asked him before the questioning even started if he wanted Gerard to leave and Frank had said no. That had to mean Frank wanted them to work things out—he didn’t want to break up—but he probably didn’t realize saying what happened would mean Gerard would be arrested.

He’d molested him. He’d molested his underage, traumatized boyfriend. Frank had told him it was hurting and Gerard had practically told him to deal with it. 

“Frank?” The therapist pressed.

Instead of answering, Frank just turned to look at Gerard, still sipping from his glass. 

“Frank, I really need you to communicate. Can you tell me what sort of miscommunication you two had? Or do you not feel that that’s right?—Do you feel it was more serious?”

Frank shrugged, and looked at Gerard more.

“If having Gerard here is making you less comfortable, I can ask him to leave. Donna and I just thought you two might benefit from a little bit of couples counseling. Are you okay with that?”

“Yeah,” Frank whispered. 

“Then I need you to tell me about what happened, alright? Then I can help you two to move forward—move past it. Alright?”

“Okay,” Frank said, looking down at his glass of water. 

“So, can you tell me about what happened?”

Frank stayed quiet for so long Gerard was sure he was going to ignore the question. His therapist, however, looked unfazed by the pause and merely started nodding when Frank spoke up.

“I… I got hurt,” Frank mumbled.

“You were hurt?” His therapist pressed. Frank merely nodded and shook his glass of ice water, swirling around the ice cubes. “Frank?”

“Yes.”

“Is Gerard the one who hurt you?” His therapist asked, her face blank and her voice pleasant as if she were asking nothing more serious than where he’d purchased his shoes. 

“Kind of,” Frank mumbled.

“Can you tell me what happened?” She looked between Frank and Gerard, welcoming either of them to explain but holding the slightest bit of disdain when her eyes landed on Gerard. 

Frank turned to look at Gerard, obviously aware of how damning his words could be. He wanted to protect Gerard. He didn’t want to admit what had happened, but he was scared. He didn’t trust Gerard anymore. He was caught between throwing Gerard to the wolves to better himself, and keeping his silence and suffering. 

“I hurt him,” Gerard said, unable to bear that look of torture in Frank’s eyes any longer. “It… It was my fault. I didn’t listen to him and I…I hurt him.”

“Does that sound right, Frank?” His therapist asked.

Frank stared at Gerard a long time, then looked down at his lap and nodded. 

“Can you tell me a little more about how you got hurt, Frank?” She made a point to address Frank, pressuring the boy to answer on his own. 

“I don’t want to,” Frank said, his head still low.

“You don’t want to?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Frank looked at Gerard, then didn’t answer. 

“Frank, are you afraid that what you say will cause something bad to happen to Gerard?” 

She knew. Gerard understood it immediately. She knew exactly how Frank had been hurt, now she just needed him to admit it so she could call CPS and the police. 

“Frank?”

Frank lowered his head even more, ashamed. Gerard couldn’t help him this time. He wasn’t going to incriminate himself. He loved Frank, but he didn’t want to go to jail It was an _accident._ He’d made a mistake and he was _sorry._ It would never, ever happen again. 

“Frank, you need to say something or I can’t help you. Would it be better if I asked Gerard to step outside for a moment?”

Immediately, Frank let out a sad noise and reached over to grab Gerard’s hand, squeezing it tight. It was the first sign of affection Frank had given him since that night and it gave Gerard just a small spark of hope that maybe they could get out of this. Maybe he could make it better and not lose Frank. He loved his boyfriend—he did. More than anything else in the world. 

“He yelled at me,” Frank mumbled.

“Yelled at you?”

“’cause I told my d-dad that my boyfriend’s name was Kyle.”

“Why did you tell your father that?”

“’Didn’t want him to know that Gerard was my…my boyfriend.”

“And that made you unhappy, Gerard?” The therapist asked, the look she passed Gerard somewhat less judgmental now that her theories—her accurate theories—about Gerard molesting Frank were being proven wrong. 

“It… Kyle was his— Was some guy who…” He didn’t know how to follow that up. Some guy who talked Frank into sucking his dick and then showed a video of it to the entire school. That wasn’t exactly something he had the right to share.

“K-Kyle’s the one who made the video,” Frank whispered.

“Oh,” his therapist said, nodding in understanding. “Gerard, are you perhaps jealous of Kyle?”

“I don’t know,” Gerard said, fidgeting uncomfortably. “I… I wasn’t thinking. I…”

“What about what Frank said to his father made you yell at him?”

“I—I was jealous. Yeah. I was jealous,” Gerard said, not wanting to focus on this any more than he did the assault he’d committed on Frank. He was stupid to get mad at Frank after he’d nervously blurted out Kyle’s name to his father. It was because of his own foolish jealousy that they were even sitting here. If they hadn’t fought, Gerard wouldn’t have tried so hard to correct it with physical affection… “I know it’s because I’m…I’m insecure, okay? I don’t…I don’t need any help pointing that out.”

“You sound a little hostile,” the therapist said, watching it as Frank pulled his hand away from Gerard’s.

“I’m not hostile, I just… I’ve been to therapy before. I know I have issues and I know it’s not right to take them out on Frank.”

“But you have anyway,” the therapist observed.

“I’m not… I’m not good at relationships. There’s a reason I was single for over a year.”

“What made you decide to pursue a relationship with Frank?” She asked. 

Frank looked at him expectantly, biting his lip in anxiety. Why did Gerard want to date him? That was a question Frank always wondered and no matter what Gerard said, Frank was never convinced. He never believed a word. 

“I love Frank,” Gerard said. 

“What about him do you love?” The therapist pressed, hardly giving Gerard any time to elaborate on his original statement. 

“Well, he’s nice,” Gerard said, grappling for words even though he knew it had to look like he couldn’t come up with any reasons. Why did he love Frank?—Because he was perfect. He was shy and modest and broken in so many ways—so many ways Gerard wanted to help fix. He didn’t complain when things went wrong, he didn’t really argue. He wasn’t a drama queen or an asshole—he was just sweet and gentle. There were so many things to love, but he couldn’t form the words for them all. 

“A lot of people are nice,” the therapist said. “What makes him different? His age, perhaps?” 

There it was, the thinly veiled jab—was he a pedophile? Did he like Frank because he was young? Because he was innocent and had been pure?

“It’s not his age,” Gerard said, shaking his head. “It’s his attitude, you know? I know a lot of people who come from really bad places and none of them—not a single one of them—act like he does. The people who rob my store day in and day out—they come from broken homes and they’re _mean._ Frank is _good._ He’s sweet and nice to _everyone._ I…I like that. I _admire_ that.”

“I think there’s a fair number of people from hard backgrounds who don’t turn out to be thieves and actually become upstanding citizens. I wouldn’t say it’s a rare occurrence,” the therapist said.

“It is around me,” Gerard said, unwilling to let her tear down his reasoning. Every time she did it, it just gave Frank more reasons to doubt him. They were going to leave this session with Frank going back to thinking he was unlovable. “I’ve dated lots of guys—I don’t have problem getting boyfriends. What I’m saying is Frank has a good attitude about a lot of things. When he broke his arm even, he wanted to go back to work. When I was his age, I would leave my job if I got a nose bleed. He’s tough.”

“Okay, so you like his attitude and his work ethic?”

“Yeah, but there’s more to it than that,” Gerard argued. “Frank is such a sweet kid. When I get home from work, the way he looks at me just…it makes me feel good—like he gives a shit. I love him. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Frank, what does it make you feel when you hear this?”

When she called on him to speak, Frank started blushing and lowered his head. His therapist called to him again, not allowing him to dodge the question.

“I…I like it. I don’t know,” Frank whispered. 

“What I’d really like to focus on is _development_ in your relationship with each other. Gerard, you’ve had relationships before. Relationships with older people, more _experienced_ people who are used to the natural cycles that relationships take. Cycles like fighting and making up, periods of…stagnation—slow periods where you don’t do too much—and then times when you’re inseparable. Gerard, you’re used to these. Frank is not. Frank is a lot younger and he hasn’t had the chance to see how relationships progress the way you have.”

“I know that,” Gerard said, feeling more ashamed than ever for what he’d done. He understood that Frank was inexperienced—it was part of the reason he liked him so much. Sometimes it was frustrating, sure, but other times he loved watching Frank figure things out. It was sick, but it flattered him when Frank got heartbroken because Gerard missed a text. It was new to Gerard to be loved that much—to be missed when he was at work. 

“Frank, is there anything you’d like to discuss with Gerard?—About your relationship in general or about what happened? You’re being very quiet.”

“No,” Frank mumbled.

“It would be helpful if you said what you’re thinking or something you’d like to work on in your relationship. We don’t have too much time together, and I’d like to resolve at least some things for you before you go home.”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Could… Could I say something?” Gerard blurted out after watching Frank sit there with his head low as if trying to will himself to disappear. 

“Of course,” the therapist said.

“Frank—Well… I mean, I have a lot of trouble getting Frank to say things up front. He’s always really worried he’s going to make me mad or make me hate him and he’s not—there’s literally _nothing_ he could do to make me hate him, but he doesn’t believe me when I say that.”

The therapist prompted Frank to respond, but all the boy could say was an apology. 

“Do you believe Gerard when tells you he doesn’t hate you?” The therapist asked.

“No,” Frank whispered, his head hanging unbelievably low. It hurt Gerard to hear him say that. He got mad at Frank sometimes—got frustrated and fed up—but he could never hate him. 

“See, I… I don’t understand that. I love Frank—I tell him all the time that I love him, but he doesn’t ever believe me. It’s the same with Mom, too.”

“Frank, is it alright if I share some of my speculations?” The therapist asked. “It’s okay to say no if you’d rather I not discuss our past sessions.” 

“It’s…it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

Frank nodded and chewed his lip. Didn’t the woman know by now that Frank seldom said no to anything? He was too afraid. He was afraid of everything. 

“I feel that Frank may have trouble with confrontation because in his last home environment, his opinion was not welcomed—it was not appreciated. If he said something that opposed his mother, the results were never positive. Does that make sense?”

“Yes. I know that. I already know that. I’ve seen what she’s done to him, but I’m not her. I’d never hit him—”

“But you yelled at him.”

“Yes, I yelled at him,” Gerard said, wishing that were actually the issue. The therapist was going to start digging into a lie and uncover that there was more going on. If she found out Gerard hadn’t yelled at that he’d molested him instead, she wasn’t going to be so patient. She wasn’t going to want to discuss it. She was going to kick Gerard out and call the cops. 

The therapist began explaining to him how yelling wasn’t an effective form of communication—especially not with Frank. She listed off alternatives, such as waiting until he’d calmed down to continue discussing and maybe even speaking through writing notes so Frank wouldn’t feel pressured to answer right away. 

Gerard hadn’t thought of that idea and he was almost positive it was something Frank had told his therapist he’d like. If they communicated through notes when Frank was upset, he could express his feelings without being put on the spot—maybe without even being in the same room. 

“I’d like that. We—We could try that, writing notes.”

“It won’t work for every discussion, though,” the therapist insisted. “It can help at times, especially if Frank would really like to say something but can’t handle the confrontation. Confrontation is something we need to work on, but it’ll take time to get to that level of comfort.”

“I can be patient,” Gerard said. “I love Frank. I really mean that. I want him to get better—I want to _help_ him get better and I know fighting with him doesn’t…doesn’t help.”

Frank was staring at him again, but he declined to comment when his therapist asked his opinion. He started holding Gerard’s hand again though, apparently starting to believe in the love Gerard had for him again. There was another half hour left in their therapy session, but Gerard knew the most important part of their conversation was going to happen at home—when Gerard could apologize again for what he’d _actually_ done.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank held Gerard tight, feeling guilty for everything but knowing that saying so would just make things worse for them. He hadn’t wanted Donna to know about their fight, and he especially hadn’t wanted Gerard to sit in on his therapy. However, he had to admit that it was nice to see Gerard talking to someone else about how much he cared. 

Frank had always had the feeling that their secret relationship was just something in the background of Gerard’s life. Frank always talked to Jamia about Gerard—and sometimes even Mikey if he would listen—but Gerard didn’t speak about him to anybody. He couldn’t, because he was afraid he’d go to jail. But with the therapist, Gerard had listed all sorts of reasons about why he liked Frank and admitted many times that he was the problem—not Frank.

He didn’t think of Gerard as the one with a problem, but it made sense when Gerard began discussing his own issues. Frank wasn’t the only one who felt undeserving of affection. Gerard, it seemed, didn’t think he was worthy of someone like Frank—someone pure like Frank. He really seemed to like that Frank hadn’t been with anyone else. He liked being Frank’s first everything…

Then his therapist asked Gerard a question that really surprised Frank—something he didn’t really think about.

“Do you like to feel in control of things, Gerard?” Gerard had stammered a lot and then admitted that yes, he did like to feel that he had the control. Part of why he loved Frank so much was because he could make Frank do what he wanted, but he would still love Frank—he said—if Frank told him no or argued with him. 

As it was, Frank buried his face deeper in Gerard’s chest and closed his eyes as Gerard kissed the top of his head and nuzzled his hair. He wanted to stay like this. If he stayed still and didn’t move, he could pretend that nothing bad had happened to him and that all their problems had disappeared.

He was still scared of Gerard, but he wanted to forgive. He wanted to forget more than anything.

“Baby, I really am sorry,” Gerard whispered, rubbing Frank’s back and holding him a little tighter—almost as tight as Frank was holding him in return.

Frank wished there was something he could say to make Gerard feel better, but he didn’t want to lie and his lies were always unconvincing. He accepted Gerard’s apology, but he still didn’t believe Gerard was sorry for causing him pain—Gerard was sorry he missed out on sex because he’d hurt Frank and that was all. 

“Do you still love me?” Frank mumbled after a moment.

“Of course I do. I love you more than anything, Baby, and I’m going to prove that.”

The words made Frank’s eyes snap open, his body going stiff in Gerard’s arms. Prove it? He didn’t want Gerard to prove anything to him. He was terrified of what that might entail.

“H-How?” Frank whispered.

“Well… Do you want to sit down a minute?”

“Okay,” Frank stammered, shaking a little as Gerard pried him off his chest and guided him over to the bed. Frank didn’t want to get on the bed. He was terrified that as soon as he sat down, Gerard would crawl over top of him and punish him for what he’d said in therapy and how poor his lies had been.

However, once he sat down, Gerard sat on Frank’s bed across from him, putting a decent amount of space between them. He wrung his hands a moment then looked up at Frank smiled a sad, lopsided grin. He was trying to make Frank feel more comfortable, but it didn’t work. 

“So I was thinking…I know I made you uncomfortable and I know that the other night wasn’t the first time I’ve pushed you too far. I don’t want to do that anymore, though. I don’t want to be that person, so… So I think it’d be best for us if we—if _I,_ really—stopped with the sex all together for a while. I only want to do what you’re comfortable with and I don’t want you to feel any pressure or like you have to do things you don’t want because I’m going to get mad or I’m going leave.” Gerard paused a moment to wet his lips and Frank watched him nervously. “I love you. I really do and it’s _not_ because you’re young, and it’s got _nothing_ to do with feeling superior to you in some way. I just…I _love_ you. _All_ of you, and I don’t want to lose you because I’m some impatient, twisted loser.”

Frank stayed silent throughout the speech, not wanting to say the wrong thing or make Gerard lose his train of thought. Even when he felt fear toward Gerard, it still warmed him just a little when he confessed his love over and over. To be loved, even by someone like Gerard who ignored his limits, was better than nothing. And anything was better than Momma.

“I want us to…to go back to how things were at the beginning. You know? Where… Where we just watched movies and went on dates. I liked that. And I know the weather’s been bad so we can’t really go _out,_ but that’s no excuse to not make you a priority and pay attention to you outside of sex. You’re worth more than that and I want you to know I know that. I’m lucky to have you…”

“I…I’m lucky to have you, too,” Frank whispered, feeling that it was rude to stay quiet once Gerard had seemingly finished his speech.

The look Gerard gave him in response, however, was one of pity. He didn’t believe Frank. It was strange to see someone Frank always thought of as confident look at him with such doubt. Gerard, it seemed, was just as scared as he was.

“Valentine’s Day is coming up soon,” Gerard said, looking down at his hands instead of at Frank. “I want to do something nice together—go out somewhere. Have a good time.”

“Valentine’s Day?” Frank asked, honestly surprised. He hadn’t forgotten about the day and he’d already been planning to make Gerard something—or at least try—as a gift. Deep down he’d hoped for a date, but after what had happened between them he feared they would be over for the week was out.

“Yeah. I thought we’d do something together. Maybe go to the city or a fancy restaurant. Something different from what we normally do. What do you think?” Gerard looked up, his expression still uncertain and a bit sad.

“I-I’ve never been to the city before,” Frank said, daring to feel a spark of excitement. 

A vacation with Gerard, even just for a day, would be like a dream come true. They could be alone together and if Gerard kept his word—if he really didn’t expect anything physical in return—it was sure to be the best day of Frank’s entire life. Better than his birthday—better than Christmas, even. 

“Then tomorrow we can start looking at places to go together. There are some really neat shops I think you’d like and _tons_ of vegan restaurants.”

Frank bit his lip as he tried to hide a dumb, giddy smile. It was too soon to say that all was forgiven, but he now had something else with which he could distract himself. A whole day in the city with Gerard… A whole day alone together, holding hands in public. And on _Valentine’s Day,_ too.

Frank had spent so many years pretending that day didn’t exist or watching others happily enjoy their romantic lives while all he had to occupy his free time was Momma and her exceptionally bad temper. She was wicked—she was a bad mother, especially compared to Donna—but she was still human and it hurt her just as much to be alone on Valentine’s Day as it hurt Frank. Maybe even more. After all, she had a husband—she’d never been divorced from him—but he was gone, spending the day with someone else. 

“We can really go to the city?” Frank asked.

“Yeah. I’ve been saving up. I don’t have _a lot,_ but I’ve got enough to get us there and buy us dinner and souvenirs. Anything you want.”

Frank smiled and ducked his head. It didn’t fix his problems, but it was at least a welcome distraction. More than welcome.


	61. Chapter 61

_Chapter 61_

Frank lie in bed, staring at the ceiling unable to sleep. It was lonely in his own bed and he wished he could snuggle up next to Gerard, but Gerard told him he didn’t want to cuddle tonight. He wanted space—for both of them. It didn’t hurt as much as Frank thought it should. Gerard rarely asked him to stay away unless one of them was sick or he was feeling restless and Frank really wondered why his boyfriend was pushing him away. 

In the back of his mind, Frank wondered if Gerard was in the mood and that was why he didn’t want Frank next to him. It had been a week since Gerard proposed they stop doing sex stuff together and so far he had kept his word. They kissed, but they were always brief and gentle. Frank still got hugs and they cuddled together, but now Gerard had kicked Frank out of his bed for the night with no explanation. 

He really hoped Gerard wasn’t tired of him…

Still, the thought didn’t really scare him like it used to. It wasn’t that he didn’t love Gerard as much since the _accident,_ but it had somewhat numbed him. In some ways he still hung on to the feelings he’d had in that awful moment. He remembered how scared Gerard made him feel, how helpless and frightened… He remembered fearing that the unwanted advances were a punishment, that Gerard was doing it on purpose. As soon as that fear had struck him, it stayed. It became truth for Frank.

Gerard hurt him on purpose. 

Frank didn’t want to get that close to Gerard again. He didn’t want to trust him so completely or depend on him like he had before the accident. When Gerard pushed him away, Frank went willingly. It was probably good for him anyway… 

Sighing, Frank rolled over—careful to keep his feet from bumping into Zoe—and stared at Gerard, wondering if he was sleeping. 

Maybe it wasn’t so easy to sleep apart from him… All Frank could think about was how cold his bed was and how much more comfortable it was to have Gerard’s arm under his head instead of the pillow. 

Why didn’t Gerard want him to sleep in his bed? 

Frank couldn’t think of anything he’d done wrong… He didn’t cling as much as he used to. He didn’t kiss or cuddle in front of Don or Donna. It had to be the sex stuff. 

Gerard was using the space to punish him for not wanting to have sex anymore. 

Frank wondered if he could get Gerard to reconsider if he crawled into bed beside him. What if he just started touching Gerard? Would Gerard forgive him then and let him sleep where he felt safest? Or would it just piss him off?

Frank sighed deeply and closed his eyes, struggling to find sleep as his mind kept spinning. He really hoped Gerard wasn’t mad at him about the sex stuff… Gerard was the one who had proposed the idea that they stop for a while. 

“Gerard?” Frank said, scaring himself with how loud his voice sounded in the quiet room. 

Gerard groaned and slowly started rolling over in his bed to face Frank.

“What?” He asked, sounding groggy and half asleep. 

Frank said nothing, his chest tightening with fear. He didn’t think Gerard would be awake and he certainly hadn’t thought his voice would wake the man up.

“What, Baby?” Gerard pressed, still drowsy. 

“I…I didn’t mean to wake you up,” Frank whispered.

“It’s fine,” Gerard sighed. “Can you not sleep?”

“I… It’s cold,” Frank mumbled.

“C’mere,” Gerard said, moving around to make room.

“I… No. You don’t… You didn’t want me to earlier. I didn’t mean to wake you up. I can sleep in my bed, it…it doesn’t bother me.”

“Come here,” Gerard repeated. 

Frank hesitated, but quickly caved and slipped out of his own bed in favor of reclaiming his spot beside Gerard. Zoe immediately jumped up from Frank’s bed and followed him, but Gerard shooed her away before she could jump onto his bed. 

Gerard pulled Frank as close as he could and kissed his cheek as the boy settled down in the sheets. It made Frank a bit nervous that he’d sent Zoe away, but he tried not to dwell on it. Gerard didn’t seem to be trying to do any more than cuddle. He had his arm wrapped around Frank’s shoulders as soon as Frank was settled under the blankets. 

“Much better,” Gerard whispered, kissing the top of Frank’s head. He was acting as if it hadn’t been his idea for Frank to sleep in his own bed for the night. 

Frank said nothing, just accepted the warmth and affection. He wondered why Gerard pushed him away at first, but he feared that asking would just cause it to happen again. He didn’t want sent away. It hurt whenever Gerard didn’t want him close and Frank couldn’t handle any more pain. As it was, he felt little more than numbness but he didn’t want that to change. If he wasn’t numb, he was sad—and if he felt happiness, it was so fragile. He’d rather feeling nothing.

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard was kissing him deeply, one hand next to Frank’s head to keep him propped up and the other gripping Frank’s thigh. He’d pressed his way inside, but it really didn’t hurt—Frank didn’t mind. He felt loved and warm. Gerard made sure to be gentle—made sure this time that Frank was ready. 

The kissing never stopped as Gerard began moving his hips—not for a single second. Their lips were always touching, even when Gerard would moan or Frank would moan. The kissing was Frank’s favorite. For him, it was more intimate than the sex. 

“I love you,” Frank whispered between heavy breaths. 

“Love you too, Baby,” Gerard said, kissing Frank’s neck instead of his mouth. It made Frank’s skin prickle and he let out a quiet moan. He loved this. It made up for the bad time—the accident. It felt safe here—Frank felt safe in his trust for Gerard. 

Frank moaned as he started getting closer and closer to his orgasm, being brought to the edge by Gerard’s gentle touched and the kisses and licks along his throat. He threw his head back against the pillow and let out a shrill cry, hoping no one was awake to hear.

It seemed that as soon as the fear registered in his mind, it was confirmed. His cry of pleasure was cut off as he heard a loud bang. Frank flinched and jerked his head in the direction of the sound, his heart pounding and the euphoria fleeing him, only to be replaced with terror and confusion, when he spotted Gerard standing at the foot of the basement stairs. 

“Gerard?” Frank stammered, staring at his boyfriend who was looking at him with pure hatred.

Frank looked back at the man overtop him—Gerard. It had been Gerard. He wouldn’t ever get this close to anybody else!—but instead of his lover, he was staring into Kyle’s face. His heart started beating even harder as he started to scream, pleading for Gerard to come help him—that it wasn’t what it looked like.

“How could you?” Gerard snapped, his eyes cold and hard. He didn’t care at all that Frank was struggling to get out from underneath Kyle who was laughing at him. 

“Gerard, help me!” Frank cried, trying harder and harder to push Kyle off of him. “Please, its’ not what it looks like! I love you! Gerard!” He kept screaming for Gerard to save him, but the man just watched him with more and more hatred brewing in his eyes.

“How could you?” Gerard asked again.

“I—I didn’t mean to! I th-thought he was you,” Frank cried, starting to get choked up as the fear ate away at him. He could’ve sworn Gerard had been the one above him. How could he have gotten with Kyle and not _realized_ it!?

“Stupid whore,” Gerard seethed, approaching the bed. That was when Frank noticed the belt in his hand—and Kyle was gone. Frank was alone in the bed, stripped bare and vulnerable as he watched Gerard storm toward him. 

“Please don’t,” Frank cried as he realized what Gerard had in mind. 

Gerard was going to hurt him the way his mother had. He was going to torture him, make him bleed, make him scream. Gerard didn’t love him. Gerard had _never_ loved him. 

“Mom!” Frank screamed, meaning Donna. He wanted Donna to hear and come save him. “Momma! Help me!” He tried to move away, but his body wouldn’t respond. He was trapped. Gerard was going to hurt him and he couldn’t even close his legs. 

“I’ll teach you to cheat on me again,” Gerard hissed, swinging the belt down despite Frank’s apologies and pleas. 

“Mom!” Frank cried, bright lights flashing behind his eyes as the pain exploded between his legs. “Momma! Help!”

Gerard just kept hissing at him—muttering cruel, evil words—as he lifted the belt and prepared to strike again. 

“Please don’t! Please, Gerard! I love you! I love you!—Please don’t!”

But it didn’t stop him. He swung the belt down again with as much force as he could.

“Momma!”

“Baby?”

“Mom—Make him stop! I didn’t mean to! Momma!”

Frank whimpered and squeezed his eyes shut, unwilling to watch as Gerard brought his arm down a third time. He felt a hand cover his mouth and screamed louder, fighting it in fear that he was being smothered. 

“Mom!”

“Baby, hush.”

Frank cowered in fear of the next blow, flinching every few seconds even when the pain didn’t come. All he could feel was the hand clamped over his mouth to keep him quiet. 

“It’s okay. Don’t cry, Baby. It’s okay.”

Frank opened his eyes and stared up at Gerard who was looking down at him with concern and fear—his eyes holding none of the hostility they’d had only seconds before. He screamed again, trying to turn his face away from the hand pressed so firmly over his lips. 

“I’m gonna move my hand, okay? Don’t scream. It’s gonna be alright.”

Frank whimpered and shook his head, taking a deep breath as soon as Gerard took his hand away. Is entire body was trembling and his pajamas were sticking to his skin. 

Pajamas… 

He was dressed. 

Frank let out a loud sob and brought his hands up to cover his face. 

A nightmare. It was just a nightmare. 

Gerard was gently rubbing his shoulder, trying to help him calm down and working hard to keep him grounded in the moment. He kept whispering soft, consoling words until, suddenly, there were hurried footsteps overhead in the kitchen.

“Shit,” Gerard whispered, squirming around until there was a bit of space between himself and Frank in the bed. He pulled the blankets back away, too, showing that they were both fully clothed. 

“Momma?” Frank whispered, looking toward the stairs. The overhead light switched on as Donna hurried down the steps, having heard Frank’s screams from all the way upstairs in her bedroom. 

“What did you do?” She snapped, immediately sending a cold glare to Gerard who was still massaging Frank’s shoulder. “Get off him!”

“He was having a nightmare,” Gerard said.

“Bullshit! Get up—Get away from him.”

Frank flinched at Donna’s stern tone and then watched Gerard as he got up from the bed on slightly shaking legs. He sat down on Frank’s bed and Zoe immediately jumped up from the floor, going to the head of the bed and sniffing Frank’s face before licking his cheek to clear it of tears. 

“Frank, what happened?” Donna asked, coming over to him as well and grabbing his chin, forcing him to look up so she could inspect his face. 

“I told you—he had a nightmare,” Gerard said.

“And I told _you_ to get the _fuck out!”_ Donna screamed. Frank had never heard her so angry and his entire body stiffened. “You really think I’m that stupid!? He’s been a nervous wreck around you for days. I thought he was just being paranoid like he always is but now I fucking know better.”

“Mom, he had a nightmare!” Gerard argued, looking to Frank for support but all Frank could do was stare and swallow the lump in his throat. He wanted to defend Gerard, admit that it was just a bad dream, but he was scared that if he said anything at all, Donna’s anger would shift to him. How mad would she be if she learned that she’d been woken up and called downstairs because of something as foolish as a nightmare?

“Get _out!_ ” Donna shouted. 

“M-Momma,” Frank stammered, wanting to come to Gerard’s defense but too afraid of attracting her wrath. 

“Gerard,” Donna hissed, glaring at her son until Gerard finally caved and went upstairs, passing one last, sad glance to Frank who had let him down. As soon as he was gone, Donna sat down beside Frank on the bed and looked him over, making him turn his head and lift his chin more and more so she could check his neck for bruises or scratches—as if she thought Gerard had tried to strangle him. “It’s okay. He’s gone now. Just tell me what happened.”

Frank tried to slow his breathing, but it was a wasted effort. His heart was still pounding and he was terrified of the anger that still existed in Donna’s eyes. She was going to be so mad if he told her it was all over a nightmare…

“Frank, just tell me. You’ll feel better. I’m not going to let anything else happen, okay? He won’t touch you anymore.”

“I-I just h-had a bad dream,” Frank stammered.

Donna sighed and rolled her eyes, obviously thinking his words were a lie. 

“Frankie, you don’t need to protect him. I’ve seen how uncomfortable he’s made you the last few days. I thought the counseling would help if you two had a fight, but since it _didn’t,_ I can only assume he did something you won’t tell your doctor about.”

“It was a bad dream, Momma,” Frank whispered. 

“You were _screaming._ I heard you from all the way upstairs. You’re telling me you screamed that loud in your sleep?”

“Y-Yeah,” Frank whispered, looking at the basement stairs, wishing Gerard would come back. He was frightened that Donna was going to kick him out—or turn him in to the cops. 

“Frank.” Her voice was firm, cold. It made Frank start crying again. “Frankie… Just tell me what happened.”

“It was a bad dream about Momma,” Frank whispered. 

“Don’t use your mother to get out of this. I’m being serious right now. Stop lying to me. What did Gerard do? You don’t need to protect him.”

“H-He didn’t do anything,” Frank said, swallowing hard as he pulled away from her. He could tell she was getting frustrated and there was no one in the room to save him if she decided to lash out and make him confess.

“Then why have you been so scared of him lately? You don’t even sit with him on the couch anymore. He had to have done something.”

“He… He hurt me, but not _tonight._ It was just a nightmare, Momma, I promise. It was a nightmare about Mom…about Momma.”

“He didn’t hurt you _tonight?_ ” Donna asked, continuing to dig even though it had to be obvious that Frank was about to panic. He wondered if it was safe to tell her or if she would throw Gerard out…or turn him in to the police. What if he told and she forced them to break up? Frank couldn’t _live_ without Gerard. Gerard knew all of his secrets. Gerard was the one Frank relied on—depended on. He was the only one Frank trusted, even if he’d hurt him. “What did he do? You need to tell me right now.”

“Mom—”

“No, Frank. You tell me right now. If he hurt you, you need to tell me.”

“He didn’t mean to—”

“What did he do?”

“I-I… I just had a bad dream.”

“Frank!”

“H-He didn’t mean to. He said he was g-going to make it up to me. W-We’re fine. I just had a bad dream.”

Donna sighed heavily and shook her head.

“Did he hit you?”

“No,” Frank said meekly, knowing what question came next. He should’ve lied. He should’ve said Gerard smacked him or pulled his hair. 

“I need you to be honest with me right now. Stop protecting him and just tell me what he did.”

“H-He just g-got mad at me because I t-told my dad that Kyle was my boyfriend. Th-that’s all, Momma.”

“You’re lying,” Donna snapped. “Stop lying.”

“That’s why he got mad at me,” Frank whimpered, trying so hard to think of a convincing lie. He knew how badly it would end if he dared to speak the truth. He knew how bad it would end for both of them…

That Valentine’s Day trip into the city? Canceled. The nights together spent cuddling? Gone. Forever. Gerard would be kicked out. Frank would be the homewrecker. He would have broken apart his new family just like his real one…

“Why won’t you tell me? I can _protect_ you, Frank.”

“He didn’t do anything,” Frank said.

“Frank, just tell me what he did. Why won’t you tell me?”

“Because you’ll throw him out! I don’t want you to take him away from me! I _love_ him, Momma.”

“Why would I throw him out?” Donna asked, her expression becoming even more concerned and irritated. “What the hell did he do to you!?”

He didn’t need to explain it, though. He could tell by the look in her eyes that she knew—and the only thing that came to mind, the only idea he had to protect Gerard and himself from the consequences, was a threat. 

“If you throw Gerard out I’ll kill myself—”

“You stop that right now,” Donna snapped. “I don’t want to hear that. If you say that again, I’m going to have the social workers put you in a hospital. Do you understand me?”

Frank bit his lip and stared at her silently. Now he wasn’t sure who was in more trouble, himself or Gerard.

“Tell me what he did so I can _fix this,_ ” Donna said, her eyes never leaving Frank’s. 

“H-He… He d-didn’t know… He didn’t know he was hurting me,” Frank managed to say, getting choked up a couple times and only able to finish the statement after lowering his gaze to the crumpled bedsheets.

“How was he hurting you, Frank?”

Frank kept his head down and whispered the truth, trying to be as vague as he possibly could—wishing there were a way to hide the truth from her, or at least part of the truth.

“I can’t believe this,” Donna whispered, turning her face away from Frank. She kept her composure for several seconds before she turned away from Frank and started up the stairs, immediately barking out Gerard’s name—leaving Frank behind, shaking and too afraid to follow after her.


	62. Chapter 62

_Chapter 62_

“How _dare_ you!?” His mother screamed, over and over. She wanted an answer, but she was too angry to pause and allow for one. “How fucking _dare_ you!? You _know_ how messed up that boy is! You _know_ he has a therapist and social workers coming here all the time! How in the hell could you _do this_ to us!?”

“Mom, he’s not going to tell anybody,” Gerard said, cringing at how guilty he made himself sound. Don’t worry about it, Frank wouldn’t tell anyone? He sounded like a pedophile. He sounded like a sleaze—like someone who didn’t give a shit about Frank and just wanted to save his own skin.

“I can’t believe I let you go to _therapy_ with him! I thought you two were _fighting._ I didn’t know you _raped_ him!”

“I didn’t rape him!” Gerard protested. 

“Oh really? What do you call it when a teenager says to his older boyfriend, ‘ow, you’re hurting me,’ and the boyfriend keeps fucking pushing it? He told me what you did! You _raped_ him, Gerard. Don’t you get that?”

“I didn’t _rape_ him. I wouldn’t do that! If he’d told me to stop, I would have. When he said it hurt, I tried to be more gentle—”

“I don’t want to hear it! You shouldn’t have been touching him in the first place!”

Gerard hung his head, knowing there was nothing he could say to defend himself. He shouldn’t have been touching Frank. She was right. Frank was too young, too immature—not in any way ready for what Gerard was trying to get from him.

“I want you out of this house,” Donna said, her voice emotionless though she had her face turned away. She didn’t want him gone, but she had to make him leave in order for Frank to be safe. 

“Mom, it’ll kill him if I leave—”

“He’s going to get over you, Gerard. I can’t have you in here with him. I’m his _guardian._ I’m supposed to protect him. I can’t force him to share a bedroom with his _rapist!_ ”

“I didn’t _rape_ him!” Gerard argued, shaking he was so terrified. Where was he supposed to go? He had no money—no savings, no friends, not anything. He spent all of his money—all of it—on his bills and on Frank. The money he had saved up, about three hundred dollars, was to be spent on his and Frank’s Valentine’s Day plans. “Mom, don’t do this. Please just listen to me. I didn’t—I didn’t mean to hurt him. We’re moving past it—”

“You don’t move past a rape!”

“There was _no rape!_ I-I _molested_ him. Yes. _That_ happened. But it’s not the same as a rape—I didn’t… I didn’t _mean_ to. If he’d said _stop._ Or—Or if he’d _pushed me away,_ I would have stopped. I didn’t mean for him to get hurt, Mom. Don’t do this. Please. I love him. I-I had _plans_ for Valentine’s Day—”

Gerard’s words were cut off when his mother delivered a sharp, stinging blow to his cheek. 

“I don’t want to hear about your plans for Valentine’s Day! I’m not letting him anywhere _near_ you _any_ day!—Especially not _Valentine’s Day!_ ”

“M-Momma?” At the sound of Frank’s timid voice in the doorway of the basement stairwell, the anger on Donna’s face was completely overcome by shock and fear. 

“Frank,” she said, quickly turning toward the boy, “just go back downstairs. You don’t need to worry about anything. I’ll be down in a little bit, okay?”

“Did you hit him?” Frank asked, staring at her fearfully, looking so small. He reminded Gerard of a tiny child who had walked in on his parents fighting, not sure what to make of the scene but frightened by it. 

Donna stammered a moment, looking back and forth between Frank and Gerard. It was obvious she wanted to deny it, but there was still a sharp sting and residual heat in Gerard’s cheek and he knew it was probably red. His mother had hit him hard, but it wasn’t that awful for him. Every third person he caught at work punched him or kicked him, making a slap to the face less than memorable for him.

For Frank, however, it was a sign of hatred on Donna’s part. To Frank, it meant he’d gotten Gerard into trouble and had ruined his family. 

“Just go downstairs, Frank. You don’t need to worry,” Donna said again. 

Frank continued gaping at her, shaking, then bolted for Gerard. He pushed past Donna in order to wrap his arms around Gerard’s torso, clinging to him tightly. Not knowing what to do, Gerard stood there, his arms raised as he grappled with the decision of whether or not to hug Frank in return. He wanted to comfort him, but he was afraid it might set his mother off again.

“Frank, I told you—you don’t need to protect him. Now come on. Let’s go downstairs; we’ll talk about this.”

“No! I heard what you said!” Frank cried, trying to sound forceful even though his voice was shaking. “You’re trying to kick him out, but you can’t. He _loves_ me. Please don’t take him away from me. He didn’t mean to hurt me. It was my fault!”

Donna passed Gerard a cruel glare, obviously believing her son had somehow put the idea of blame in Frank’s head himself. 

“It was _not_ your fault. Let go of him. Come on. Let’s go downstairs. We’ll talk,” Donna said, coming over to Frank and putting a hand on his shoulder. She tried to pull him away from Gerard, but Frank shook his head and clung tighter. 

“I didn’t say anything when it was happening,” Frank argued, choked up but trying not to cry. 

“Frank, it’s okay,” Gerard murmured, whispering in the boy’s ear as he finally caved and hugged Frank back. It made his mother angrier, but he couldn’t just stand there and let Frank defend him. Frank wasn’t strong enough, and his involvement just made Donna more irritated with Gerard. 

“No it’s not,” Frank cried. “She can’t throw you out. I _need_ you. I’m sorry I said anything. I-I didn’t mean to.”

“Baby, you didn’t need to keep it a secret. Don’t feel bad. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Gerard said, kissing the top of Frank’s head and looking at his mother. 

Donna looked like she wanted to _kill_ him. Literally pull a knife out of the drawer and stab him for what he’d put Frank through. He could tell she believed that Frank’s screams had been caused by an assault, not a nightmare. 

Frank had still had all of his clothes on when she’d come downstairs, though. Gerard had been cradling Frank, trying to comfort him. She had to know that there was no way for Gerard to have raped him and gotten him dressed again before she came downstairs. 

“Frank, you need to let go of him,” Donna said, her tone firm.

“No! Y-You’ll hu-hurt him,” Frank stammered, nuzzling Gerard’s chest. 

“Stop it. Let him go.”

“No!”

“Frank… I mean it.” She was trying to be firm with him—something that _always_ worked on him in the past—but now her method failed her. Frank had made his choice and his love for Gerard was overpowering his affection and respect for Donna—his replacement mother. 

“He didn’t mean to hurt me. It was an _accident._ Please don’t do this!” Frank said, holding Gerard tighter and tighter as Donna tried to pull him away. 

“If you don’t let go, I’m going to get Don to help me. Do you really want that?” Donna asked.

“If Don touches me I’ll tell the social workers he’s the one who hurt me,” Frank said, his voice trembling but still determined. He seemed to realize once the words were out how awful his threat truly was. 

Gerard stopped hugging him, Donna stopped threatening him. Everything stopped. The kitchen was silent apart from the sounds of Frank’s heavy, uneven breaths. 

“Fine,” Donna spat after a long pause. “That’s what you want? You want to put my husband in jail?—After everything we’ve done for you, that’s how you’re going to repay us?”

“Just don’t make Gerard leave and I won’t say anything!” Frank said, shaking even harder now. His dramatic threat didn’t have the effect he’d wanted and Gerard was still too shocked to offer any input. He’d never imagine Frank had it in him even think up a threat like that let alone speak it out loud. 

It was the same as when he’d threatened to drink bleach if he was sent to live with his grandmother. At the time, it had seemed over the top and unrealistic, but Gerard had come home to find Frank trying to swallow the cleaner. His threats weren’t empty. If he spoke them, he meant them. 

“Let go of him now,” Donna said, grabbing Frank’s shoulder and pulling. She must’ve applied just enough pressure to make it hurt because Frank let out a shrill cry and dropped his hold on Gerard. 

“Mom, don’t hurt him,” Gerard said, hating how betrayed Frank looked as his hand came up to rub his offended shoulder as soon as Donna let go of him. 

“Go to your room,” Donna said, looking at Frank sternly and pointing toward the basement door. “Now!”

Frank passed an anxious look to Gerard and then obeyed her, hurrying out of sight with his head ducked.

“Are you happy now!?” Donna barked, fixing her eyes on Gerard. “Now that you’ve got him wrapped around your little finger so much he’d put your _father_ in jail just to have you?”

“I didn’t tell him to say that!” Gerard said. He was as mortified by the comment as she was. “He’s just panicking, Mom. He’s _scared._ We just—We just need to stop for tonight. Okay? I-I’ll sleep on the couch if you want or—or Frank can sleep in Mikey’s room. Just don’t throw me out. We can’t trigger him anymore. He’s _unstable._ He’s panicking. Just give him time. I promise, I didn’t hurt him on purpose. You don’t need to kick me out.”

His mother was staring at him with fire still burning bright in her eyes. She didn’t want to let him stay, but she was realizing that she had no choice. If Frank went through with his threat, they would all go down with him—not just Don. 

“You get one chance to tell me what the hell you did to him,” Donna said. 

“We had a fight and he went to sleep. I couldn’t sleep so I woke him up to _apologize,_ ” Gerard said, hoping his tone was enough of a description without having to say he’d woken Frank up for sex. “We were kissing and I took it too far. He didn’t say anything except that it was hurting so I just tried to be more gentle. I didn’t know he wanted me to stop. I swear. That’s all that happened—and it was more than a week ago.”

“Then what the fuck happened with him tonight?” His mother asked. Some of the tension had left her face and he hoped it was because she was starting to believe him. 

“I don’t know,” Gerard said, shaking his head. “I woke up because he was thrashing around so much, then he started screaming and I couldn’t get him to stop. He said it was a nightmare.”

His mother sighed heavily and started rubbing her temples. 

“I’m going to talk to him about making threats, then you two can do whatever you want. He’s obviously got my hands tied if he’s going to accuse your father of raping him.”

“He won’t say anything. I’ll make sure of it,” Gerard said. 

“I don’t want you to make sure of anything!” His mother snapped. “Just keep your hands off of him. He’s a _child_ for god’s sake. He may be seventeen, but he acts like he’s ten and it’s _disgusting_ to me that you find that attractive.”

Gerard nodded his head, but didn’t speak another word. She was right. He was sick for loving Frank the way he did; he just couldn’t help it.

( ) ( ) ( )

Donna wanted to give Frank a piece of her mind. She wanted to tell him how terrible it was for him to even consider making a threat like that, how bad he was for _daring_ to accuse Don of rape when the man had been nothing but kind to him. Don was planning to take him out for driving lessons the next week—after Frank got his cast off. It was true he didn’t love Frank the same as he loved Mikey and Gerard, but he still cared for the boy. If he _ever_ found out about what Frank said, that shred of fatherly affection would be gone—forever. 

She wanted to smack him. She really, really did. He deserved it for making threats like that. He was putting Don’s _life_ at stake. If he told the social workers Don had molested him, he’d end up in prison. 

She wanted to tell Frank that just because his mother had hurt him and scarred him, that didn’t mean he had the right to say whatever and do whatever he wanted. There were consequences for his actions, and getting grounded didn’t even begin to cover what he deserved for his behavior. 

If Gerard had ever made that sort of spoiled, cruel, heartless threat—if _Mikey_ had ever said such a thing—Donna would not have hesitated to strike. With Frank, however…

If she hit Frank, he’d never forgive her. It would probably drive him to suicide again if that wasn’t already where he was heading. He seemed to have come to his senses the moment Donna refused to bow to his will, and Donna was sure if she reinforced that his behavior was unacceptable, he would never speak of it again. 

She wasn’t going to let him get away with it, but there were better ways to teach Frank a lesson that didn’t involve a blow to the face. 

When she got down to the basement, it took her a moment to find Frank—surprised when he wasn’t in his bed or Gerard’s. Instead of seeking comfort in the blankets, Frank had managed to pin himself in the small space between the washed and dryer, trying to hide himself in the darkest corner of the room.

“Come here,” Donna said, her tone firm. Until she got an apology from the boy, she wasn’t going to tolerate his infantile behavior. _“Now.”_

Frank slowly pulled himself out from between the washer and dryer and came to stand several feet away from her. He had his head ducked and was shaking, picking at his fingernails anxiously as awaited her reprimand. 

“Do you have anything you’d like to say to me?”

“I’m sorry,” Frank whispered.

“Why are you sorry?” Donna asked, trying to take some of the hostility out of her voice so she didn’t terrorize the boy. 

“D-Didn’t me-mean what I said a-about D-Don,” Frank stammered, shaking even harder. “I’m s-sorry, D-Donna. I-I’m…I’m r-really sorry.”

“Why would you say something like that in the first place, Frank? How could you even _dare_ to say something like that?”

“I don’t know,” Frank said, starting to cry. “I’m sorry.”

“I want an answer. Why did you say that?—Why would you say that to me?”

Frank looked up at her for a fraction of a second—just long enough to make eye contact—then looked away and shook his head. 

“Answer me. _Now.”_ She could tell by Frank’s posture and the sad, conflicted look on his face that he’d had a reason—there’d been thought behind the threat he’d blurted out—and she wanted to hear it. Depending on what it was, she would feed it to his therapist later and demand the woman fix it before Frank did get them all put in jail with his carelessness. 

“I’m…I’m _sorry,”_ Frank cried.

“That is _not_ what I asked. I asked you why you threatened my husband after everything he’s done for you. You wouldn’t even be staying in this house if it weren’t for him. You would have _none of this_ if it weren’t for Don,” she said, gesturing to the bedroom. Frank didn’t have much, but he had a lot more than he’d had when he’d lived his mother. “Now why did you say that shit, Frank?”

“I-I…I didn’t want you t-to take G-Gerard away,” Frank said, sobbing softly.

“So you thought it would be okay to threaten my husband?”

Frank kept his head ducked and mumbled something, keeping his voice low until Donna barked at him to speak up. 

“I-If you were going to take Gerard from me, I was going to take away Don from you,” Frank whimpered. “I’m sorry. I love Gerard—I don’t want to lose him.”

“Well I don’t to lose my husband so don’t you _ever_ say anything like that again. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Donna,” Frank whispered. 

“You do understand that if you told the social workers that Don or I hurt you, they’d take you away, don’t you?”

“Yes…”

“They’d put you in foster care. Do you get that?”

“Yes,” Frank repeated, sniffing loudly as he tried to fight back his tears. He was at least trying to keep his composure, not giving in and sobbing like a toddler or flinging himself against her in an attempt to garner sympathy or forgiveness. 

“Or with your _grandmother._ Do you want that?”

“No!” Frank cried, looking up at her in sheer terror. “Please don’t send me to her! Please! Mom!—Please! I’m _sorry!_ I’m sorry, Momma!”

“Didn’t think about that when you were making threats, did you?” Donna asked, holding back on the empathy she immediately felt when Frank’s fearful eyes met hers. Slapping him wouldn’t make him see reason, but reminding him of what he’d have for a home life if not for her—if not for Don.

“No,” Frank cried. “I’m really sorry. I won’t say anything—please. Please don’t make me move out. I’m sorry.”

“Maybe next time you’ll think before you start threatening members of my family,” Donna said. 

“I won’t do it again,” Frank said, staring at her. She could tell he was waiting for her to forgive him or show some sort of leniency. In the past, she would let him get away with anything. Tonight, however, he wasn’t getting away with anything. She was still mad at him. “Mom?”

“Go to bed now, Frank,” she said, stepping back when he attempted to reach for her. He wanted a hug, he wanted affection, but she wasn’t going to be the one to give it to him. Not this time. “If you’re up for breakfast in the morning, make your own. I’m not your maid.”

Frank stared at her, speechless, his mouth slightly open in shock. 

“M-Momma?”

“Go to bed,” Donna said, turning away from him and starting up the basement stairs. It was cruel, it was mean—but so was his threat. He needed to learn that he couldn’t get away with running his mouth, trying to get innocent people put in jail just to save his relationship with Gerard.

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard sighed and shook his head, looking down at Frank who was still curled into his chest weeping. He kept saying over and over that Donna hated him, Momma hated him. He’d ruined his family, he said. He lost his chance at a new mother because he’d been bad—because he was awful, evil, stupid…

Nothing Gerard said helped to calm him down and Gerard _hated_ that his mother had willingly reduced Frank to this. She did this on purpose…

She knew that denying Frank affection was worse to him than a slap in the face. She knew rejecting his apologies and showing him nothing but coldness would _kill_ Frank inside, but she did it anyway. She wanted him hurt. She was trying to teach him a lesson, but she’d really just broken his heart. 

“I promise you, Baby, tomorrow she’s going to act like nothing happened. I promise.”

“She hates me,” Frank cried, trembling as he struggled to breathe. “I made her hate me.”

“She doesn’t hate you. She was _punishing_ you.”

It was senseless and mean for her to treat him this way, but Gerard had always known this moment was coming. He knew she would snap at him eventually, her maternal instincts worn thin before Christmas had even come, but not like this. He expected one outburst—her to scream at him and scare him a little—not for her to torture him, using his insecurities against him.

He loved her so much. She was his new mother. He still believed he’d somehow caused his actual mother to go mad and hate him, and now he believed he’d done the same to Donna. 

Even Zoe couldn’t comfort him. Even she had gotten tired of absorbing his tears and listening to his loud, broken sobs. 

“Baby, you need to stop,” Gerard said, kissing the back of Frank’s head. He had the boy sitting between his legs, Frank’s back to his chest and Gerard’s arms wound around his torso. He’d been trying to help Frank regulate his breaths to keep him from having a panic attack, but it hadn’t worked. Frank was broken and crying was all he could focus on—not breathing techniques. “Baby… _Frank._ ”

“I’m sorry,” Frank whimpered, tipping his head back against Gerard’s shoulder. His face was completely red and swollen, wet with tears.

“Don’t…don’t be sorry. You just need some rest. I _promise,_ Mom’s not going to be mad in the morning.”

“She told me n-not to come to breakfast,” Frank sobbed. “How can you say she’s not going to be mad anymore?”

“Because she’ll have gotten sleep, too,” Gerard said, nuzzling Frank’s neck desperately. He wanted this hellish night to be over. He wanted to go to bed and wake up somewhere else—wake up and act like nothing ever happened the way he _knew_ his mother would. 

The only one who wouldn’t try to forget this whole thing, though, was Frank. He’d been crying for two hours straight with no signs of stopping. 

Gerard stiffened when he heard someone on the stairs, terrified it was his mother coming to tell Frank off a final time or worse—his father, having been told about Frank’s threat and ready to give Frank a piece of his mind. Gerard watched the steps in fear, holding Frank a little tighter even though Frank didn’t seem to notice the person coming down the stairs.

At least not until their mother stepped down into the room, dressed in actual clothes instead of her pajamas. She looked exhausted and all of the hostility was gone from her face. When Frank saw her, he held his breath, choking back his tears in fear that they would upset her. 

“Gerard, can you give us a minute?” She asked.

“Mom… He’s exhausted. Leave him alone,” Gerard said, nuzzling Frank’s neck—not to agitate her mother, but to show Frank he was safe and protected. He wasn’t going to let him get hurt anymore tonight. 

“If you’re not going to leave, fine. Frank…I’m sorry.”

Frank sniffed and stared at her, then turned to look over his shoulder at Gerard. 

“I was mad and what you said…got to me very much. It’s not an excuse to be that hard on you, but I think you can understand. I don’t want to lose my husband, and you don’t want to lose your boyfriend. I get it.”

“I’m sorry,” Frank whispered, trembling in Gerard’s grasp.

“No—Frank, _I’m_ sorry. You knew what you did was wrong without me having to yell at you like that... You didn’t deserve that and I’m sorry.”

Frank didn’t say a word. Not even when Gerard started shaking him, trying to get some response. He just stared at her, sniffling. 

“Since you’re up, I’ll make you some breakfast. What would you like?” She asked, her voice exceedingly gentle as if she were speaking to a frightened animal, trying to coax it out of a dark corner. 

“You know he doesn’t eat when he’s stressed,” Gerard said, keeping his tone soft as well. Part of him wanted to avoid drawing any unnecessary attention to himself, but he couldn’t let that silence go on. 

“Do you not want anything?” Donna asked, ignoring Gerard completely.

“Do we… Do we have any fruit cups left?” Frank asked, swallowing hard once the words were out. 

“Let me check,” their mother said, offering him a small smile. When he didn’t reciprocate, she nodded her head and went upstairs. A little while later she returned with two peach fruit cups and a spoon. “These are all we had in the cupboard,” she said as he handed them to Frank. He accepted them with shaking hands and set the items quickly down in his lap. “If you finish those and want something else, just let me know. Alright?”

Frank stared at her and then nodded. 

“Alright,” Donna said, seeming to realize that Frank wasn’t about to act like nothing happened. “I love you,” she added, opening her arms and embracing both Frank and Gerard, unable to hug Frank on his own since Gerard was already holding him. 

“L-Love you, too,” Frank stammered, lifting his arms after a moment in order to hug her in return. 

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, kissing his temple quickly before pulling back. “If you think of anything you want to eat, just let me know. If you don’t want to tell me, just send Gerard. I’ll make you anything you’d like.”

“Okay,” Frank whispered as he watched her go back upstairs.

“Are you okay?” Gerard asked, squeezing Frank tighter. 

At least their mother had apologized, but it just seemed to confuse the poor boy. 

“I told you she still loves you,” he added when Frank didn’t respond. 

Frank didn’t say anything, just lowered his head and started pulling the foil back on one of the fruit cups with a trembling hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that Donna is so mean, but having Frank threaten to put her husband in jail for no reason does not make her a happy, logical person. I promise it gets better from here! Cast removal and V-day in the next chapter! Yay working left arm!


	63. Chapter 63

_Chapter 63_

Things had been tense since Frank had dared to lash out at Donna. She acted as though nothing had happened aside from being less reluctant to scold him if he got too near to her and the closeness made her uncomfortable. As for Frank, he could no longer remember what was appropriate and what was not. There were times he wanted to hug her, but thought of her anger and chose to keep his distance instead. 

She may not hate him, but she certainly wouldn’t want him touching her anymore. In many ways, Frank acted around her the way he’d learned to act around his real mother. If she initiated a hug or any other touch, he would reciprocate, but he would never consider forcing a hug on her again. Not ever. 

If she was making dinner, he kept his distance unless she asked for his help. He used to stand beside her and help her cook almost every night. Now, he sat in his bed and waited—hoping she’d call for him and disheartened a little more every time she didn’t.

Donna didn’t want him around anymore. He was welcome to live in the house, but just so long as he stayed out of sight and didn’t cause any more trouble.

Frank didn’t like it, but he could handle it. 

It was just like living with Momma, except the home environment was a lot less hostile. 

And Gerard was still there to help him get through it. Before, when he’d lived with his mother, he’d just sit in his bed all day, trying hard not to make a sound or call attention to himself. Sometimes he’d read or attempt to do homework, but most often he’d just laid there staring at the wall or out the window. Here, at least, in Donna’s house, Frank could talk to Gerard or text him if he were at work. He could go online, too, and chat with Jamia or play games. 

It wasn’t so horrible trying to avoid getting in Donna’s way, and after a week of keeping his distance, Frank felt his dependence on her lessen. It didn’t hurt him so much when she didn’t call him to help with dinner. It didn’t bother him when she asked him to go downstairs if he tried to watch her soap operas with her. 

He hoped it would stay that way, though. Especially after today. The two were stuck together, alone, as she took him to the doctor’s office to get his cast removed.

“If you’re feeling up to it, I can take you out for lunch once we’re done,” Donna said as they sat in the doctor’s office waiting room. 

“If you want to,” Frank mumbled. 

“I’m asking if you want to.”

“I… I don’t know,” Frank said. He felt so uneasy around her now, always afraid he was going to set her off. It was his own fault that this had happened, but he wished the tension would just go away… Fade out into nothing. He didn’t feel the constant tug to be with her, but he wished that dependence hadn’t been replaced with fear.

“We don’t have to. I just thought I’d offer.” She was flipping through a magazine, not looking at him as she spoke. It made him feel as if he were just part of the background and though it hurt, he wanted it to stay that way. When she didn’t speak to him or didn’t acknowledge him, Frank felt nothing. He was numb to it now and it didn’t really bother him. When she did speak and he felt as if she were doing it because she thought she had to—because she didn’t want the social workers mad at her—it tore him apart. “Frank?”

“I don’t want to,” Frank answered. “I’m not hungry.”

“You haven’t eaten since yesterday,” Donna pointed out, tossing her magazine onto the chair beside her and letting out a heavy sigh. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Something,” Donna pressed.

“I just don’t want to cause any trouble,” Frank mumbled.

“I’ve told you a hundred times, it’s no trouble. Are you still upset about last week? We talked about this… I’m over it. I apologized and so did you.”

She acted like forgiving and forgetting was so simple. Frank envied her if it was truly that easy for her to forget what he’d said—what he’d done.

Never in his life had he ever known himself to be as evil and wicked as his mother had always said he was, but in that moment Frank knew he was everything negative his mother had ever thought of him. 

“I really wouldn’t say anything like that about Don,” Frank whispered, wishing he could make himself believe that the words were true.

“I know you wouldn’t, Frankie.”

“I really am sorry.”

“I know,” she repeated.

Frank continued to stare down at the carpet, unable to look at her. 

“You know I still love you just the same, right? What you said didn’t change a single thing.”

Frank wished that were true, but it wasn’t. She loved him, but not nearly as much as she had before. Even that, however, was more than his mother had ever loved him and he was still thankful. 

“Frank, I mean that.”

He nodded, not sure what else he could say to her. The wait to be taken back to the exam room felt like an eternity. Donna and the doctor chatted for a moment before the time came for the doctor to saw away the cast from Frank’s arm—taking all of Gerard’s artwork with it. He wouldn’t miss the cast, but he’d miss being able to see Gerard’s drawings every day—drawings made especially for him. 

Maybe, Frank ponders as the last bits of the cast are pulled away from his arm, Gerard will draw on a shirt for him, or doodle on his skin sometimes before school—like temporary tattoos, but custom made. 

“Can you give me your arm for a moment?” The doctor asked when Frank and reflexively pulled his wrist up to his chest once it was free of the cast. He was rubbing the skin of his arm, slightly repulsed by how clammy it was. There were slimy patches of dead skin with white powder stuck to them from the sawn-off cast. He quickly extended his arm to the doctor, relieved when the man quickly swiped a damp cloth over his skin. Once it was clean enough to touch, the doctor started turning Frank’s wrist gently, then felt the bone of his arm. He paid special attention to the area underneath the narrow scar on Frank’s forearm—the place where the shelf had struck and shattered his bone. 

In the end, the doctor told him everything was fine and invited him to wash his arm off in the exam room sink before he left—an offer Frank graciously accepted. 

“Why don’t we stop by the Spend N Save on our way home, then, since you don’t want to go out to eat. I can pick up some groceries and you can visit Gerard,” Donna said as they walked out of the doctor’s office. 

“Okay,” Frank said, looking up from his phone—in the middle of sending a text to his boyfriend that he would now have to change. Instead of “I can’t wait 4 u 2 come home!” Frank got to send “I’m coming 2 see u! :) :)”

Gerard replied right away with a grinning emoji and three exclamation points. 

Frank smiled the whole ride over, occasionally testing his wrist and massaging it when it would twinge from the stiffness of disuse. As soon as they stepped through the front door of the Spend N Save, Frank’s eyes landed on Gerard.

He was standing in the center aisle of the store, pretending to straighten when Frank _knew_ he was waiting for his boyfriend to come. Gerard turned to him and smiled, and let Frank come to him.

“Arm’s all better, huh?” Gerard asked, hugging Frank tight.

“Yeah,” Frank answer, lingering in them embrace a little too long, nuzzling Gerard’s neck. It would be Valentine’s Day soon and he was beyond excited for their trip into the city together. Over the past few days Gerard had been nothing but respectful toward him. They slept close to each other at night and Gerard never touched him for anything more than kisses. 

It wasn’t the same, but it was better than it had been in a while. 

“It doesn’t hurt at all, does it? Since you got the cast off?” Gerard asked, pushing Frank back a little when a customer came into the aisle. 

“My wrist hurts, but not bad.”

“I have to say, Baby, I’m gonna miss seeing you wearing my sketches,” Gerard said, rubbing Frank’s arm gently and keeping his voice low so the customer wouldn’t overhear. 

“Yeah?” Frank said, unable to keep the grin off his face. 

“Mhm. I liked having people see my work on you.”

Frank giggled and let Gerard lead him out of the aisle and into one with no one else in it besides them—one outside of view of the cameras. Gerard leaned down and gave him a gentle kiss on the lips, leaving it to Frank to make it deeper. 

He didn’t, though. Frank kept the kiss innocent and pulled away after only a few seconds. 

“Do you want to have a movie night when I get home from work?” Gerard asked.

“Okay,” Frank said, smiling. 

“I can bring home some popcorn if you want it.”

“Chips,” Frank said, shaking his head. “I don’t like popcorn.”

“You don’t like popcorn? Since when?” Gerard asked as they started wandering through the aisles. 

“Since…ever. It sticks in my teeth,” Frank said. 

“Okay, then what kind of chips do you want?”

“I don’t know,” Frank said, giggling because his noncommittal answer made his boyfriend roll his eyes. 

“Hmmm I think you want…bacon and cheese chips with _real_ bacon powder.”

“Bacon _powder?_ That’s disgusting, even if I did eat meat,” Frank said, poking out his tongue. 

“What can I say? Dollar store brands really know how to reach their market.”

“Gross,” Frank repeated, inclining his head against Gerard’s arm as they weaved through the aisles. 

“So what chips do you want?”

“I don’t know,” Frank said again, giggling.

“If you don’t tell me, I’m gonna get the bacon powder ones,” Gerard said.

“No!” Frank called out, giggling as Gerard lead him into the chip aisle.

“Pick one.”

“You pick one,” Frank said, hugging Gerard around the waist. Gerard put an arm around his shoulders and kissed the top of his head, nuzzling the longer strands of his bangs. 

“Okay, bacon powder it is.”

_“No!”_ Frank protested, laughing and pressing his face into Gerard’s chest.

“Then tell me what you want.”

Frank groaned and stared at the chips. His selection was extremely limited being lactose intolerant. A lot of the cheaper cheese flavored snacks were okay and didn’t give him much discomfort, but he didn’t want to chance it. It was really just a decision between salt, salt and vinegar, honey mustard, or barbeque. 

“Barbeque,” Frank mumbled. 

“Barbeque?” Gerard asked. Frank nodded and broke off their embrace when Ray stepped into the aisle.

“Hey! Your cast is finally off!” Ray said, smiling warmly at Frank was tried to return the grin. He still felt bad about having to quit, even though Ray insisted it was no one’s fault—let alone Frank’s—that the shelf had broken and he’d had to quit.

“I-I got it off this morning,” Frank said, fighting the urge to duck behind Gerard and hide. 

Ray continued to make small talk to him—interrupting Frank’s alone time with Gerard—until Donna came to collect Frank and go to the check out.

“Bye, Frankie,” Gerard said, smiling as Frank was led reluctantly away. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Bye,” Frank said, waving sadly as he went to stand at the checkout counter with Donna.

( ) ( ) ( ) 

Frank was shaking and Gerard couldn’t tell if it was a good thing or not. It was early morning and they were heading for the City, Frank in the passenger seat wrapped up in his winter coat with his knees to his chest. 

“Are you okay?” Gerard asked, keeping his tone upbeat and light. Their mother wasn’t particularly happy about them going off together, especially since there was a chance for freezing rain later in the evening, but Gerard refused to cancel. Frank was counting on this. It was all he asked about. Were they still going? Did Gerard really want to go? What were they going to see? He was so excited for it and Gerard couldn’t let him down.

“It’s cold,” Frank mumbled.

“The heater will get warmed up soon, Baby,” Gerard said, reaching over to rub Frank’s shoulder. The boy turned and quickly kissed his hand before pressing his cheek against it. “Are you okay?”

“I just… I know you hate crowds and Mom said the city will be crowded,” Frank whispered as Gerard pulled his hand away.

“I don’t mind the crowds as long as I’m with you,” Gerard said. “You keep me calm. Plus, I’m going to be so distracted by how excited you’re gonna be when you see all the stuff I wanna show you, I’m not gonna care about anybody else.”

“Are you sure?” Frank asked.

“Definitely. We’re gonna have a good time. Even if everything I wanted to show you is packed full of people, today is…it’s going to be perfect.” He looked away from the road just long enough to pass Frank a smile, then turned back. 

“Are we going to get food when we get there?”

“You just had breakfast,” Gerard said. 

“I’m still hungry.”

“Still? Baby, you had three pancakes.”

“Pancakes don’t fill you up,” Frank said.

“Not you maybe,” Gerard said, laughing a little. “I think we can go to a coffee shop first and I’ll get you some pastry or something to hold you over until lunch. Sound good?”

“Okay,” Frank said, smiling.

Frank was still shaking, though, even after the heater started blowing hot air instead of cold. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah… I just… I’ve never been to the city and…we’ve never really gone away that far together.”

“Are you nervous?”

“A little,” Frank mumbled.

“There’s nothing to be worried about. I’ll keep you close so you don’t get lost and we’ve both got our phones so if we do get separated, just call me and I’ll come find you.”

“You won’t leave me?”

“I’m not going to _leave_ you in the city, Baby! You’re tiny—some guy would make off with you in an instant. I’m keeping you as close as I can.”

“Are you sure you want to do this? We don’t have to go…”

“I’ve been looking forward to this for weeks,” Gerard said. “Of course I want to go.”

Frank looked at him then and smiled, whatever fear he had seemingly put to rest. 

“Are we going to go to the Empire State Building?” Frank asked.

“We can go see it, but it costs too much to go up. Maybe when it’s warmer I’ll take you up, but…today, let’s spend our money on food and souvenirs. I want you to have the best Valentine’s Day.”

“First Valentine’s Day,” Frank said, smiling and downright staring at Gerard as he drove.

“I’m going to make it the best one you’ve ever had,” Gerard said.

“Mom said if it rains we can get a hotel,” Frank said.

“Mhm. That was we don’t have to drive in the bad weather. She worries about you.”

“Do we have…enough money for today and the hotel?” 

“Mom gave me money for a hotel. Don’t worry about it, Baby. We’re going to have a good time.”

Frank nestled down in his seat and stared out the window after that, watching the cars and scenery go by while Gerard began a narrative about work and the people he’d caught lately. Frank didn’t have much to say, but Gerard didn’t mind. He wanted Frank to be calm, and when he was staring out the window—falling asleep—he was calm. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard was relieved when they finally found a parking spot. It was at the very top of the parking garage, but it was at least _something._ He pretended the walk down to the ground level didn’t bother him, and used the time to hold Frank’s gloved hand and kiss his cheek every now and then.

Frank seemed to like that. He would snuggle into Gerard’s side every few steps and laugh, so happy to be on their special Valentine’s Day date. As Gerard promised, he took him to a café first and bought him a soy latte (which had a little heart made in the foam to celebrate the holiday—something Frank had to take a photo of with his cell phone) and two croissants. One of the croissants was supposed to be for himself, but Frank ate it too—claiming he was starving and begging until Gerard caved and gave it to him. 

Food, it seemed, was the one thing Frank wanted to explore most in the city. No matter where Gerard took him or what he wanted to see, Frank was more interested in finding a nearby shop or food cart from which he could get another snack. 

“Baby, you’re going to eat _all_ of our money,” Gerard said as Frank started munching on his red bean steamed bun, purchased for a dollar from a store window in Chinatown. There was no storefront, no service counter, just a window and an old woman selling various types of steamed buns including the red bean which Frank “just had to have.”

“I’m so hungry though,” Frank whined, his mouth full. “You should try this—it’s good.”

Gerard turned down Frank’s offer and led him down the street to a little shop full of Asian imported and stereotype-inspired knickknacks. While Gerard was more interested in the prints, Frank—who had finished scarfing down the steamed bun—was poking through the shelves of stuffed animals and figurines. He wanted to find something for Jamia, something cheap she might like and appreciate—and something for Mikey, too, since he couldn’t come tour the city, too.

In the end, he picked out a tiny cell phone charm for Jamia, a little bell painted to look like a lucky cat, and a small sculpture of a dragon for Mikey since it was the only masculine thing Frank could find. He took a picture of the dragon and sent it to Jamia, but wouldn’t show her what he’d picked out for her. 

After Chinatown, Gerard led Frank to the underground metro so they could head to central park. It was chilly out, but not too cold so walking in the park wouldn’t be uncomfortable. The metro, however, terrified Frank who clung to Gerard in fear of the large crowd and cramped spaces. He was scared he’d lose Gerard in the rush of people getting on and off the subway car and never find him again. It was cute to have Frank clinging so close—to have him frightened of getting separated. It meant Frank still needed him and still felt he couldn’t get by without him, even after Gerard had hurt him so badly and so many times.

As they walked, a caricature artist commanded their attention and insisted they let him draw their likeness—for a small charge, of course. Gerard tried to turn him down, but Frank begged him to change his mind. It would be so cool, he said, if they could get a picture for their room. Reluctantly, Gerard agreed after telling the artist not to even think about making either of them “comically” obese. He’d had that happen before… He didn’t want to repeat it. 

However, the drawing wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t anything Gerard couldn’t replicate, but Frank was ecstatic about it, even though they had to lug it with them through the city for the rest of the day, trying not to let it get bent or wet with snow.

They visited a few more shops and an art gallery, then Gerard agreed to take Frank to lunch at a small, vegan bistro. Frank, who hardly got the opportunity to explore vegan food beyond the imitation meats and tofu meals Donna would make for him, was completely floored by the menu even though it was small in Gerard’s opinion.

All of the décor was earthy, to the point where each of the tables had its own little mini terrarium at the center. Frank was fascinated by it and had to be reminded three times to look at his menu and not the mini garden on the table. He kept taking “sneaky” pictures of the terrarium and then would sink lower and lower in the seat so he could get a shot of Gerard _and_ the glass orb.

Every time the waitress would come to check on them, Frank would get nervous and embarrassed about not knowing much about the meals offered and Gerard took the initiative to ask the questions Frank was too self-conscious to voice.

In the end he ordered a sandwich wrap made with spiced chutney and slivered almonds as well as crumbled tofu with a soy-yogurt dipping sauce. Gerard let Frank talk him into trying something exotic—well, slightly exotic—as well, and ordered an organic pita bread wrap with pesto and hummus along with a plethora of veggies stuffed inside.

They held hands on top of the table while they waited for their food, something that made Frank blush furiously and caused the employees of the bistro to giggle at them from behind the counter. Apparently, Frank antics drew more than a bit of their attention—too—since the waitress came back with two thick-looking drinks that Gerard did not order. 

“This is our new soy yogurt interpretation of lassi. We start selling them next week, but we thought you two look like _ideal_ test subjects. So try it and let us know what you think,” she said, grinning a big, cheesy grin. She looked like she wanted to eat Frank alive and then devour Gerard for desert.

“What is it?” Frank asked, taking the glass and looking into the drink as if he expected something to come crawling out. 

“Mostly it’s like a creamy…rich smoothie. It’s got sugar, our vegan soy yogurt, blended in with some spice—really good stuff.” She kept grinning until Frank finally took a sip. 

Gerard watched him, trying to gauge whether or not the boy liked it based on his expression. His eyebrows shot up when he took a sip, but he didn’t look repulsed.

“What do you think?” The waitress pressed.

“It’s really good,” Frank said, licking lips and then immediately going for another drink. 

It encouraged Gerard to try it, and he found it to be a bit sour—but not in an unpleasant way. The initial taste was almost exactly like authentic, dairy yogurt but a little tangier, then it faded away into something sweet. 

“It is good,” Gerard said, nodding.

“So…is this your first time to the city?” The waitress asked in a playful tone, no doubt noting the bags Frank was carrying from the shops they’d visited.

“For him, yeah,” Gerard said, speaking for Frank since the boy was still drinking from the large glass.

“How are you liking it so far?” The waitress asked, tilting her head and smiling at Frank as if he were some kind of cute animal that had gotten lost and wandered into her earth-toned haven. 

“I-It’s crowded,” Frank said.

“Yeah?”

“But not bad,” Frank added. “G-Gerard knows all the cool places to go.”

“Well, we’re glad he brought you here—have you had vegan before?”

“Not like this,” Frank said, losing his self-consciousness a little and lighting up at her questions. “I’m lactose intolerant so I can’t have dairy, and I don’t eat meat either, so I’ve always had fake meat and…tofu. But not like this. This food looks so…so different.”

“Em’s going to have your meal out soon so I hope it’s as good as it sounds for you.”

“It’s gotta be better than what my mom tries to make,” Gerard said, leaning back and smiling at Frank who blushed at the attention. 

The waitress started talking about her own experience in making homemade vegan dishes and even offered to print Frank out a few recipes to take home and try. She only stepped away when another couple entered, leaving Gerard and Frank to themselves to sip at their drinks.

“Don’t fill up on that or you won’t eat your sandwich,” Gerard said.

“I won’t full up. I’m starving,” Frank whined.

“Did you get worms or something? Why are you so hungry today?”

“I’m _always_ hungry. I just don’t want to bother Mom about it,” Frank said, his eyes getting big again as the other worker, Em, came out with a large tray. She set their plates down in front of them and asked if they like the lassis and if there was anything else they needed. 

After she was gone, Frank took a picture of his plate—then Gerard and Gerard’s plate—then immediately started in on his wrap, moaning as soon as he got a mouthful.

“It’s so good,” he said.

“And think, they eat like this all the time,” Gerard said, tilting his head toward the waitress behind the counter.

“I’m jealous,” Frank said, taking a long time to chew and then swallow. “I want to, like, live in here.”

“Not in the city,” Gerard said, laughing. “Just in here.”

“Yeah,” Frank said, “just in this restaurant.”

It was hard to eat, Gerard found, because he was smiling so much. Whenever Frank would catch Gerard staring at him, he’d giggle and look down at his plate, blushing. 

“I love you,” Gerard said, waiting for Frank to stop giggling in order to say it back.

“’Love you,” Frank managed.

“Where do you want to go next?” Gerard asked.

“Um… Times Square,” Frank said, nodding. 

“It’s gonna be really busy this time of day.”

“Isn’t it busy all the time?” 

“Yeah… You’ve got a point. We’ll go, Baby. I’ll take you anywhere you want.”

“But not the Empire State Building,” Frank said, sounding a little disappointed.

“Babe, it’ll cost, like, forty bucks for us to get up there. Do you want to go up there, or do you want dinner?”

Frank hesitated a moment, then said dinner.

“I’ll take you there next time. When it’s warmer. It’s not fun up there when it’s cold.”

“Maybe… Maybe on my Spring break at school we can go,” Frank said. 

“Anything you want, Baby,” Gerard said, smiling and taking a bite of his sandwich. 

Frank grinned back at him, cheeks bright red, and returned to his meal as well.


	64. Chapter 64

_Chapter 64_

“It’s snowing a lot,” Frank said, shivering and pressing into Gerard’s side as they hurried to the nearest entrance to the metro. 

“I know, Baby,” Gerard said. They were both tired and Frank no longer even seemed interested in getting dinner. He was cold and his shoes were getting wet from all the snow. 

“Are we going to get a hotel?”

“Probably. Is that okay?” Gerard asked. He wasn’t exactly losing patience with the boy, but he was getting irritable too from the cold. 

“Are you mad at me?” Frank asked.

“No—I’m cold, too, Baby. Just wanna get someplace warm.” He smiled at Frank who was staring at him nervously, cradling and clutching at all of his bags and packages—including the boxed up leftovers from the vegan restaurant. 

“Should we just get a hotel? Then we can just get food from nearby.”

“It’s not even five o’clock yet. There’s still so much to see. I don’t want to cut your Valentine’s Day short.” With any other boyfriend, being asked to go to a hotel early would’ve been the perfect offer. But Frank wasn’t any of Gerard’s other boyfriends. He didn’t want sex. He wasn’t interested in that kind of love… Not at the moment, anyway. Not after Gerard had ruined it.

Frank let out a groan—not exactly exasperated or annoyed—and rubbed his face on Gerard’s arm. 

“The city’s too big,” Frank whimpered. “We can’t see everything.”

“There’s one more store I want to hit, then we can get dinner. And if you’re tired, we can just get the car and go to a hotel.”

“Okay,” Frank said, nuzzling Gerard’s arm one last time before pulling away. “Where are we going?”

“A bookstore,” Gerard said.

“Do they have a coffee shop?”

“You’re going to ruin your appetite for dinner. No more coffee, no more food. Not until dinner, Baby.” Gerard put his arm around Frank as they made their way to their last stop before dinner. 

By the time they reached the comic book store Gerard had been itching to return to for months, Frank was shivering from the cold. His winter coat kept him dry, but the snow was piling up in his hair and dripping down his face. He looked pitiful, but didn’t complain—only sighed in relief once they were inside the warm building. 

“Here,” Gerard said, reaching into his front pocket and taking out his wallet. 

“What’s this for?” Frank asked, accepting it.

“I have twenty dollars in my coat. That’s all I’m allowed to have. Don’t let me spend any more. Not even a penny more. Okay?”

“Okay,” Frank said, looking down at the wallet as if confused. 

Gerard tried not to look too excited as he hurried over to the first of many shelves of comics. Frank trailed behind him and then stood behind Gerard on his tiptoes so he could put his chin on Gerard’s shoulder whenever he stopped to look.

He didn’t say much, just read over Gerard’s shoulder silently. Frank wasn’t completely disinterested in comics—he couldn’t be if he and Gerard were to remain dating—but he based his preferences on whatever Gerard liked and had no interest in looking at the titles on his own.

“That lady doesn’t have enough clothes on,” Frank said as Gerard thumbed through one of the issues.

“Yeah, I know,” Gerard said. He didn’t care much for the skimpy one-piece the villainess was wearing, but her clothes hardly mattered to him. He just wanted to see if there was enough action in the book to keep his interest or if there was too much text.

“Put it back,” Frank said, his voice barely louder than a mumble.

“What?” Gerard asked, honestly not certain of what he’d said.

Frank groaned and pulled back from him. 

“Put it back. I don’t want you to read that.”

Gerard huffed out a small laugh, looking at Frank in surprise—humored. He wasn’t serious, was he?

“What’s the matter?” Gerard asked. 

“She doesn’t have anything on—I don’t want you to read that,” Frank said, looking downright irritated. 

Gerard giggled and closed the book. Part of him wanted to listen—he wasn’t interested enough in the book to put up a fight—but another part wanted to see how worked up he could get his jealous boyfriend. 

“You know I’m not interested in girls,” Gerard said. “Why does it matter what she’s wearing?”

“Because it’s gross! If you buy that, you’ll look like a pervert. I’m not leaving with you if you buy that book.”

“How will you get home? I have the keys,” Gerard said.

“I have your wallet. I’ll get a cab.”

“To _Jersey?_ ” Gerard asked, giggling and setting the book down when Frank continued to glower at him. “Don’t worry—I’m not gonna buy it.” He opened his arms and Frank hesitated a moment—pursing his lips and narrowing his eyes in annoyance—before stepping closer and letting Gerard hug him. “I don’t need to look at her when I’ve got you,” Gerard added, knowing it was risky if Frank took the compliment to be an attempt to push for sex. 

Frank muttered something and pulled away, moving on down the aisle as Gerard followed him.

He didn’t stay upset and by the time Gerard had picked a different book to thumb through, Frank was back to clinging as if nothing had happened.

Until someone else approached them, of course. A girl. 

“Have you read the rest of that series?” The girl asked, eyeing the book in Gerard’s hands.

“Yeah, I’m just missing this copy…” Gerard answered, looking at the comic instead of the girl. “I have the one after it, too, but my little brother spilled Coke on this one.”

“Well that’s rude,” the girl said, looking at Frank—assuming already that he was Gerard’s brother. Her expression was less than friendly, as if she were already trying to swoop in and prove herself a better companion than Gerard’s own flesh and blood, and Gerard looked from her to Frank.

Frank looked downright _pissed._ Angrier, even, than he had been when Gerard and Ben had crossed paths.

“Gerard, I want to go,” Frank said.

“My mom threw out all my issues of the Lethal Foes of Spiderman because they weren’t ‘feminine,’” the girl said, rolling her eyes. 

“Yeah,” Gerard said, looking over the shelf quickly to see if there were any other books he wanted from the section. He wasn’t going to heed Frank’s request and leave the store after spending less than ten minutes inside, but he would gladly escape the conversation. “I…didn’t read those ones.”

“Gerard,” Frank grumbled.

“I mean, Lethal Foes isn’t any Legends of the Dark Knight, but it’s still an excellent set.”

Gerard had an opinion on the topic and he really, really wanted to voice it, but Frank was glaring daggers at him and he didn’t want to set the boy off… Not really.

Okay, maybe he did. Just a little. 

After getting dumped and stood up and treated like he didn’t matter, it was flattering as hell to have a boyfriend who got jealous of even the smallest of small talk. 

“Spiderman could _never_ be on the same level as Batman. Not ever.”

Frank let out a low growl and turned on his heel, leaving the aisle in favor of standing in the next one over. 

Gerard continued discussing which hero was actually superior to the other—in plot, in design, in characters—until Frank came back.

“Gerard?”

“Yes?” Gerard asked, keeping his tone innocent as he flipped through another comic, one that had a scantily clad woman in it—just to see if he could get Frank worked up about that too. 

“I want to leave.”

“He’s a little busy right now,” the girl said, making Gerard’s eyes go wide. Somehow she’d gotten from their brief conversation that she had a shot with Gerard, and was going to win him over by sending away his ‘annoying little brother.’ “Why don’t you go buy a pop and keep it to yourself this time instead of dumping it on the comics?” 

Frank’s eyes immediately shot to Gerard, looking hurt first and angry second. Gerard was about to speak up and put an end to the game, tell the girl Frank was his boyfriend and demand she not speak to him that way. Only Frank started speaking before Gerard could even find his words.

“You should probably know what you’re talking about before you start running your mouth,” Frank snapped.

“Excuse me?” The girl said, her eyes narrowing as she immediately rose to the occasion.

“You heard me.”

“Look, I’m not the one dumping shit on my older brother’s things.”

“He’s not my brother, you bimbo, he’s my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” The girl asked, looking repulsed.

“Yes. My boyfriend. So back off.”

“Okay, Frank,” Gerard said, not liking the fire in the girl’s eyes. She was glaring at him as well now, feeling somehow tricked or slighted by the fact that Gerard hadn’t spouted off in their first sentence of dialogue that he was in the store with his lover. 

“No! It’s not _okay._ Why did you let her talk to me like that?—And why are you reading these _gross_ books!?” He snatched the book out of Gerard’s hand and put it back on the shelf in the wrong spot. 

“I’m out of here,” the girl said, rolling her eyes and moving over a few aisles. 

“There you go,” Gerard said, his tone gentle. “She went away. Are you okay now?”

“No!” Frank repeated. “No, I’m not. Why were you talking to her?” He kept complaining, but Gerard just watched the way his face moved as he yelled, not really listening. Frank’s brow was furrowed and creasing, his eyes dark but so bright with fire. He was mad—he was really, really angry. He was talking so much, his lips were wet.

His fucking lips were wet.

Gerard wanted to kiss him so bad.

“Are you even listening?—You’re not listening!”

“Baby?”

“It’s _Valentine’s Day._ Why were you talking to some girl?”

“Baby?”

“What!?”

“You’re cute when you’re mad.”

“No, I’m not!” Frank said, losing a bit of the hostility in favor of his usual self-consciousness.

“Yeah, you are,” Gerard said, smiling a little.

“Gerard…”

“What?” Gerard asked, taking a step closer to him. 

Frank rolled his eyes and turned away, skulking off to the next aisle with all of his bags of tourist goodies rustling at his sides. 

“I want to leave,” Frank said, just loud enough for Gerard to hear.

“In a minute, Baby. I’m still looking.” 

Frank groaned louder and Gerard heard a loud thump along with the rustling of bags. When he peeked around the aisle, Frank was sitting on the floor with his arms crossed over his chest, pouting.

He was sitting on the floor of the comic book store pouting because Gerard had spoken to another girl. 

Gerard was about to pull back behind the shelf, but Frank turned his head and saw him.

“What!?” He snapped.

Gerard laughed and turned away. His boyfriend was perfect.

( ) ( ) ( )

“I’ll send you the pictures when we get to the hotel,” Frank said. Gerard told him to call Donna to tell her they wouldn’t make it home because of the snow and she had immediately begun asking what all they’d done in the city. Frank told her in detail about lunch at the vegan bistro and then their romantic dinner at a more exotic, Indian restaurant. 

Gerard had really spared no expense. Their meal had been extensive—a chutney and pita appetizer, a full entre of a mild sauce and vegetable dish for Frank and a lamb vindaloo for Gerard, rice on the side and more cooked vegetables, then dessert Frank barely had room for. 

The whole meal, Gerard kept staring at him and smiling, sometimes laughing and ducking his head for reasons he wouldn’t say. It made Frank forget about the girl and how rude she’d been to him—about how Gerard didn’t even bother to stick up for him when she snapped at him about the ruined comic book. 

“He wouldn’t take a picture with me at the restaurant. He said people were staring…” Frank said when Donna asked if he’d taken a lot of pictures for her of them together. He looked over at Gerard with slight annoyance, upset he’d missed out on the chance of the photo in the nice restaurant, but Gerard wouldn’t look at him. 

“He can be self-conscious, too, Frank. Especially if it was a nice place. Was it a nice place?”

“It was expensive,” Frank said, starting to feel guilty for getting upset. It had just been such a classy place. He wanted a picture of him and Gerard there and he didn’t see why his boyfriend wouldn’t let him have one. Who cared if the old couples were looking at them and shaking their heads? It was New York City! They’d never see those people again…

“Well, that’s probably why he didn’t want to make a scene. You look young, Frank. He doesn’t need that extra attention. Just be thankful he took you out at all.”

“I am thankful,” Frank said, spirits sinking. Did Gerard think he didn’t appreciate the day out? He probably did… He probably hated Frank after how immature he had acted in the comic book store. “Gerard?” Frank asked, lowering the phone a moment.

“What, Baby? Is mom asking if we have enough money again? I told her I’ve got it under control.”

“Are you mad at me?”

Gerard looked at him, brow furrowed in legitimate confusion. 

“No… Is this about the photo? I told you—I was embarrassed. I’m not mad at you.”

“Okay,” Frank said, putting his cell phone back to his ear. Gerard kept looking back and forth between him and the busy road. They had to go a bit of a way out of the city to find an affordable hotel—a _clean_ and affordable hotel.

When Gerard found a hotel he approved of—one he claimed to have stayed in before when he visited the city for work seminars—Frank followed him inside, carrying all of his bags including the food leftovers from both the vegan bistro and the Indian restaurant. The hotel had mini fridges in each room so Frank knew he could keep the food until the next morning meaning he could have a snack on the ride home. 

Their room was on the third floor and Frank was trying to hide his excitement, a little embarrassed at how happy he was to have a private room alone with Gerard. He’d never even stayed in a hotel before. His mother didn’t like them and when she did travel, she left him with his grandmother.

“Before you touch anything, just let me check the bed really quick,” Gerard said as soon as they stepped into the dark room. He fumbled around a moment to find the light, set their one bag of luggage on the floor, and then approached the bed while Frank peered around the corner of the doorway to see more of the room, nervous to go in. 

Gerard stripped off the comforter and threw it aside on the floor, then pulled up a corner of the bedding and started examining the mattress, lifting it up and checking the seams.

“What are you doing?” Frank asked, furrowing his brow as he tried to make sense of his boyfriend’s behavior.

“Looking for something.”

“For what?” Frank asked, coming into the room as Gerard moved to the head of the bed, pulling up the sheets to expose the mattress as he went—first one side of the bed, then the other. “Gerard?”

“It’s nothing, Baby. There’s nothing.” Gerard started putting the sheets back on the bed, but left the comforter on the floor by the small television stand. “Put your food in the fridge, okay? If I keep smelling that Indian food, I’m going to get hungry again.”

“You can have some,” Frank said, looking around until he spotted the mini fridge. The room was set up so there was a narrow doorway to the bathroom just inside the door, then entered into the bedroom area. The bed was along the right wall, and a tiny kitchenette line the adjacent wall—equipped with a microwave, mini fridge, coffee maker, and a small sink. There was a television and one dresser, a small table by the covered window with two chairs, and end tables on each side of the large, king-sized bed. 

It was a king-sized bed. They could lie next to each other and stretch out, unlike in Gerard’s lousy twin-bed.

“Why did you throw the comforter on the floor?” Frank asked, looking at the discarded sheet. It was kind of pretty—different shades of blue and grey, some of the threads shiny and metallic. 

“Because hotels don’t wash the comforters, Frank. They wash the sheets, but not the comforters.”

“What?—Ew! Why?”

“Because they’re usually dry clean only and they’re lazy. Trust me, you don’t want to touch that thing.” 

Frank looked at the discarded blanket one last time, then set his bags down on the counter beside the coffee maker. He put the food in the small fridge as Gerard had told him, then had to find the dial to turn it on. 

“I’m going to take a shower, okay, Baby? I won’t take long. I’m just…all sweaty.”

“Okay,” Frank said, looking up from the fridge. Gerard started stripping off his coat and draped it over one of the chairs by the window, then pulled his shirt off.

Frank bit his lips and ducked his head quickly before Gerard could turn around and see him staring. In his mind, though, he could still see the bones of Gerard’s shoulders—the dip of his spine. 

He let out a shaking breath as he heard Gerard shuck off his jeans—belt rattling as it struck the floor. He walked past Frank, dressed only in his socks and boxers, and picked up the bag of luggage he’d left on the floor. 

He sifted through it and pulled out a pair of pajama pants and an old t-shirt he’d packed, then went into the bathroom. 

Frank let out a nervous sigh and stood up from the floor, closing the fridge and sifting through their bags, taking out all of the souvenirs and items they’d bought. Gerard got three books at the comic store, all volumes from the middle of different series so Frank didn’t feel welcome to read them. He laid out the snacks and candies he’d bought in Chinatown next to the gifts Gerard got him to give Mikey and Jamia, then looked over the pair of sunglasses Gerard bought him from a street kiosk. 

Frank had only put them on as a joke, but Gerard said he looked cute in them and bought them. They were only five dollars…

Gerard also bought him a new wallet—a fake designer wallet—and a pair of fingerless gloves with skeleton bones on the top. There were a lot of little, cheap things Gerard had picked out for him, but Frank appreciated every one. No one but Gerard ever bought him things for no reason—just because he liked him…

Frank looked over at the wall separating the bedroom area from the bathroom, listening to the sounds of the running water. 

He wanted to go in…

He bet Gerard would like it, if he went in the room and pulled back the shower curtain. He could do it, Frank thought. He could go in there, strip off his coat and undress as quietly as he could so Gerard wouldn’t hear too soon. 

He could slide into the shower beside his boyfriend and embrace him, kiss him…touch him in all the sinful ways he knew. 

But they were supposed to be taking a break from all the sex stuff. Frank would look like a hypocrite if he told Gerard he wanted him or tried to get those things now. He had to fight the feelings he was having—maybe work through them alone when it was his turn to shower…

But why did he have to do it by himself when Gerard was there? It was _Valentines Day._

Still staring at the wall, Frank hurriedly stripped off his coat and tossed it onto the bed behind him. He sat down heavily on the mattress and pulled off his boots, his hands shaking hard. 

He didn’t have to ignore the feelings he had. He didn’t have to fight it. 

His thoughts weren’t enough. His hands were trembling and he was hesitant to take off his shirt. He wanted to undress, he wanted to go into the shower and be with his boyfriend, but he was afraid of what Gerard might say. 

What if he said no? What if he didn’t want that with Frank anymore? What if he used Frank’s anxieties against him and told him they would never do that stuff again since Frank had turned him away before? 

Frank started breathing heavily, eyes still fixed on the wall as if somehow he’d be able to see through it to his boyfriend. He wanted this.

He _wanted_ this. 

So why was he shaking _so hard?_

Frank let out a quiet moan, ignoring it when his cell phone beeped in his coat pocket—Donna, wanting the pictures Frank promised her. He couldn’t take his eyes off the wall, the sound of the shower running becoming louder and louder in his ears as his breathing picked up even more. 

He needed this.


	65. Chapter 65

_Chapter 65_

The first thing Gerard noticed when he got out of the shower was his suitcase lying on its side by the door where it had been neatly propped up, out of the way. The sleeve of tomorrow’s shirt was hanging out onto the floor and a few more articles of clothing were clumped beside the discarded bag as though someone had dug through contents in a hasty search.

The sight made Gerard’s heart start pounding—did someone break in and try to rob them? Was Frank okay? Did he see the present?

“Baby?” Gerard called, eyes landing on the corner of the shiny, red package still tucked inside the suitcase.

If Frank had been the one to riffle through the bag, he would’ve had to have seen the gift. 

“Gerard?” Frank’s tone sounded nervous and that scared Gerard.

He was again fearful that someone had broken into to the room, but when he mustered the nerve to come around the corner, the only one in the room was Frank. He was sitting on the bed, hands clasped in his lap, teeth sunk into his bottom lip.

“What’s the matter? Did you lose something?” Gerard asked, ruffling his hair with the towel again as he approached the bed. 

“No,” Frank said, watching Gerard’s every move with large eyes—staring eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Gerard asked again, looking around the room. He hoped Frank wasn’t afraid that he was going to start making passes at him because it was Valentine’s Day. Gerard had put on his pajama pants and boxer briefs even to show that he wasn’t up to anything. He had a shirt on too so he knew he didn’t look indecent.

“I…I missed you,” Frank said, swallowing hard. It was as if he were _terrified_ of something.

“I wasn’t in there that long,” Gerard said, offering his boyfriend a smile and sitting down on the bed. Frank immediately turned to face him and started moving to sit closer to him. “What’s the matter?”

“I want you,” Frank said.

“What?” Gerard asked, the words shocking him. He felt he’d missed something—like the grumpy brat he’d been flirting with at the comic book store had left him, and left _this_ boy in his place.

He didn’t even have time to react. Frank had crawled over to him and was worming his way into Gerard’s lap, his knees on their side of his hips, their chests touching as Frank hugged him around the shoulders. Gerard’s first instinct was to put his hands onto Frank’s hips and hold him still, but once he’d gotten ahold of the boy he didn’t know what to do.

He couldn’t shove him off or tell him to quit. Gerard was just so confused—and anxious. When Frank started kissing him, those anxieties became that much worse. Was this a test? Frank was so frightened by sex—it scared him. He liked it when Gerard promised not to try those things anymore. So why would he be sitting in Gerard’s lap now? Fighting for kisses and pressing his face into Gerard’s neck?

_Licking_ his neck. Fucking _sucking_ his neck. 

“Baby, we can’t,” Gerard said, rubbing Frank’s hips slowly. “Remember, we decided to take a break from that stuff.”

“But I want you,” Frank repeated, his breath hot against Gerard’s neck.

The words sent a shiver down his spine. Frank was wiggling in his lap and dragging his lips over Gerard’s throat—teasing it with tiny kisses. 

“We said we wouldn’t,” Gerard panted, trying to turn away from Frank’s touch. He felt that this was all a test—Frank seeing if Gerard would keep his word. After all, he’d _never_ acted this way before. Usually he just came to Gerard blushing if he wanted to commit sin. He didn’t sit in Gerard’s lap and _tease_ him.

“I need you,” Frank whispered, his voice so soft—so horribly soft and shaky. 

“I told you I wouldn’t—”

“Please?” Frank whimpered, bucking his hips forward until they were pressed hard against Gerard’s stomach—as close as he could possibly get. “I’m hard.”

“Y-You’re…oh, fuck.” Gerard let out a deep moan, tipping his head back as Frank nipped at his throat. “What are you doing, Baby?”

“I want you,” Frank repeated, starting to chew on the skin under Gerard’s chin. 

“Okay, okay,” Gerard whispered, grabbing Frank’s shoulders and pushing him back a little—desperate to get Frank to stop sucking on his throat. “What do you want, Baby? I’ll suck you. Would you like that?” He kissed Frank’s cheek only to have the boy press against him again. 

Frank groaned and shook his head. 

“Don’t want that,” Frank said.

“What do you want?” Gerard asked, shuddering again as Frank started rolling his hips. It was becoming more and more obvious what the boy wanted—and lips and hands weren’t it. 

“I want you,” Frank whispered, sounding less seductive and far meeker. 

“Come on, Baby. Tell me,” Gerard said, rubbing Frank’s hips again and sliding his hands up the boy’s back, underneath his shirt. He ran his palms up Frank’s sides, slowly bringing them forward until he could swirl his thumbs around the boy’s nipples. 

Frank gasped and bucked his hips forward, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip as Gerard continued to tease his chest. 

Gerard leaned up to press a kiss onto Frank’s mouth, then slowly started pushing up the hem of Frank’s shirt until his chest was exposed. Frank’s breaths were coming in shaky bursts as the anticipation mounted. He sucked the left nipple into his mouth and teased it with the tip of his tongue until it was hard—then he moved to the right, making Frank mewl in pleasure. 

He had to take this slow—as slow as he could. Frank wanted him. Frank had come to him this time. If he was gentle, if he didn’t rush it, Frank wouldn’t need to feel threatened—he wouldn’t have to pull away in fear. 

He closed his teeth slowly on Frank’s nipple until the boy let out a shrill gasp, then pulled back.

“What do you want, Baby?”

Frank stared down at him, panting, eyes dark. 

“I-I want you,” he stammered.

“Yeah,” Gerard said, smiling. “Where do you want me?”

Frank scooted back a little, looking Gerard over and chewing his lip. He was nervous and Gerard was trying to be patient. The boy was lucky—so lucky—Gerard had talked himself out of jerking one off in the shower, otherwise this wouldn’t even be happening. But stalling was just getting him more worked up and he was losing patience. 

“Come on, Baby. Where do you need me?”

“W-Want to try something…b-but you don’t…” Frank turned his head to look at the door. “You don’t have the…the stuff.”

“What?—The condoms?” So that’s why their suitcase was torn open—he was looking for their condoms and lubricant. He wanted to go all the way. 

Gerard could’ve cum on the spot. Frank wanted to go all the way. He forgave him—he wanted him. He wanted him so bad.

“I-I really…Can we buy some?” Frank asked, turning to look back at Gerard—his expression one of anxiety.

“I-I… I don’t really want to go out,” Gerard said, his mind spinning. “There’s…hair conditioner in the bathroom. It’ll work just like lotion…but I don’t have any condoms. I didn’t think we’d do anything, Baby. I thought we were taking a break.” 

Frank whimpered, then turned to look at the bathroom door. 

“I don’t mind going without a condom. I know you’re clean, Baby.” He knew Frank was going to want to be on top and though he would’ve preferred to have their supplies, he’d gone with more unconventional methods in the past and nothing had ever gone wrong. 

“W-Won’t that be gross? Like… I-It comes out and…”

“It doesn’t bother me,” Gerard said, rubbing Frank’s hips gently. “I’d like you to fill me up—claim me. Would you like that, Baby?” 

Frank swallowed hard and then shook his head.

“No?”

“I-I… I want you to…to do it,” Frank stammered.

“You… What?” Gerard’s eyes went wide with shock. Frank wanted him to top? It didn’t feel real. Frank had been terrified of him a few weeks ago—how could one day in the city change his mind? 

As soon as the questions came, his mind started trying to find answers. Maybe he just felt closer. Maybe his trust came back after Gerard kept him from getting lost in the crowded subway station. Maybe it was the hotel room—the fact that no one was going to interrupt. They were alone—far from their home, away from their family.

It was a secret. Everything that happened in this room was their secret.

“I-I… I saw… I…”

Frank kept stammering, looking down as his breathing picked up. 

“Will conditioner work?” Frank asked suddenly.

“Yeah, it’s…it’s oil and… It’s like a lotion.” Gerard was staring at him, still in shock. Frank wanted him to be on top? Really? 

“It won’t make me sick?”

“No, Baby. A-Are you sure you want me to be on top?”

“Well… Th-that’s it—I…”

Gerard tilted his head. 

“What? You can tell me.”

Frank kept stammering and biting his lip, then would look away as if planning his escape. No matter what Gerard said, Frank continued stammering. Whatever he wanted, it was different and Gerard had no ideas. 

“I… I saw a thing…”

“A thing?” Gerard asked, trying to be supportive, even though he was starting to lose his mood. 

“Online,” Frank whispered, his face and neck turning bright red as he blushed. 

“Looking at things you’re not supposed to, huh?” Gerard asked, unable to keep from grinning. He knew Frank’s password on the laptop he’d bought him and now he wanted to check his history—see what the boy was getting into. 

“I-I just thought…I could…could learn things.” Frank looked down and took a deep breath. “I-I thought if I knew things…you’d like me.”

“I _love_ you, Baby.”

“I know,” Frank said, looking up and making brief—very brief—eye contact. “I…I wanted to b-be… I-I saw a video.”

He sounded so guilty—like he thought he was the only teenager in the world to come across porn. It was sad he thought he had to learn from the fakest form of sex in existence in order for Gerard to “like” him. 

“Mhm… And what happened in this video?” Gerard asked, leaning forward and kissing Frank’s neck, making the boy gasp. He kept kissing and licking as Frank struggled to speak—hoping if he got the boy aroused again, the words would just come spilling out.

“Th-the one w-was on top,” Frank panted, letting out a shrill cry when Gerard pulled his shirt up again and start sucking one of his nipples. “A-And he—he was, like…s-sitting on…on it.”

“Oh,” Gerard said, nipping Frank’s chest and then pulling back. “You wanna ride me, Baby?”

“I-I… I just th-think it won’t h-hurt so much.”

“Well, it’ll give you more control, Baby. If it hurts, you can stop on your own. You don’t have to say anything.”

“Y-Yeah,” Frank said, meeting Gerard’s eyes again. 

“I can get the conditioner for you. If it’s what you want, I’d love to let you have it,” Gerard said, smiling and kissing the corner of Frank’s mouth. As soon as Frank nodded, Gerard kissed him again and then slid out of the bed. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank was shaking, excited but nervous—though so ready to go he knew he couldn’t back out. Gerard kept telling him that he was in control, that he had the final say in everything that happened—especially since he was on top—but Frank felt that he really had no say. Especially not when his body kept screaming at him in need. 

He didn’t even feel like he was in his own head, in command of his own thoughts, when he climbed over Gerard’s lap and started lowering himself down. Gerard had his hands on Frank’s hips, helping him to keep his balance, then moving one hand to hold his cock in place as the tip pressed against Frank’s hole. 

The conditioner felt different than the lubricant they had at home. It was thicker…creamier. When Gerard had prepped him, his fingers had gone in a lot easier and it didn’t burn so much—but then again, Frank was more willing this time and less anxious. The touches would lead to what he really wanted—the real thing. 

It didn’t even hurt as much when he slowly started sinking down, biting his lip hard. It wasn’t as easy as it had looked in the video. It hurt his legs to be in this position and he was scared they were going to drop him and make him take more in more quickly than he wanted to. 

He gasped as he felt the head slip all of the way inside, then Gerard moaned and dug his nails into the flesh of Frank’s hip. 

“You’re doing so good, Baby,” Gerard said, his voice shaking a little. “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” Frank stammered. “I-It… It feels really… ’feels really full,” he added as he sank down another inch. It started burning a little, but Frank didn’t care. He wanted more. He let out a shrill gasp as he sank down all the way, his body jerking. 

Mixing with the pleasure, Frank felt a small bit of pride. He didn’t think he’d be able to do it—he’d made it so Gerard had to promise not try to sleep with him, after all—but now he was able to go all the way, practically all by himself. 

He’d felt so bad about not being able to bring himself to do anything physical on Valentine’s Day to show his love, but he’d managed. He was okay. He was _happy_ like this.

Even if his legs were starting to cramp up already—his knees going a bit numb where they were pressed into the mattress. He lifted himself up a little, eyelids fluttering already, then sank down, wetting his lips. He stayed still, waiting for the dizzy feeling to fade away before he started trying to find the right angle—wanting to feel the same sparks of pleasure Gerard had given him in the moments before with his fingertips. 

When Frank finally pulled himself up more than a couple inches, Gerard’s breaths started coming in shaky bursts. He had his hands on Frank’s hips again, not so much guiding him as holding him—moving with him. 

It was discouraging after the first few movements did give him the level of pleasure he was striving for, but after Frank leaned back a little—trying to shift the weight off his left knee—the intense feeling sent sparks up his spine, making his entire body jerk, his head lolling back.

“There you go, Baby. Does that feel good?” Gerard asked. His voice dripped with sin, but Frank couldn’t feel any shame. He anticipated the guilt, but it just wouldn’t come. All he could concentrate on was how good it all felt, how much he liked it and wanted it—needed it. He wanted it harder, faster, _deeper._ “Do you like that?” Gerard asked again.

“Yeah,” Frank panted, lifting his hips up again, one of his hands digging into the flesh of Gerard’s side—bracing him—while the other slowly wrapped around his own length. He couldn’t set a good rhythm, no matter how easy the men in the video had made it seem. Real life wasn’t like that (Frank knew it would never be exactly like the films), but he wished it could be—just for a moment. 

It felt a little awkward that Gerard was doing nothing more than lying there, watching him and holding onto his hips, but after a few direct hits to his prostate, even Gerard was one of the furthest things from Frank’s mind. All he wanted to think about was the pleasure—he wanted to feel more of it, all of it. He wanted to know all the different faces pleasure could adopt. He wanted to know everything about it that Gerard knew—that the actors knew.

He wanted to be like them. 

_Just_ like them.

As he began to feel his orgasm mounting, the burning started, making it harder for Frank to bring himself to move as fast. Sinking down was easy, but pulling back up became excruciating until—giving a pained cry—Frank slumped down, practically trembling from the mixed sensations—the pleasure, the agony, the dizziness…the high.

“What’s wrong?” Gerard asked, bringing up his hand and stroking Frank’s hair, petting the back of his head down to his neck. 

“It hurts,” Frank whispered, hoping Gerard wouldn’t try to make him stop. 

“Do you need more…more lotion?” Gerard asked instead, fumbling for a moment to grab the bottle.

“My legs hurt,” Frank whined, pressing his face down into Gerard’s chest—unable to really reach his mouth in order to get a kiss. 

“I can roll us over. You don’t have to stay on top, Baby.”

“Okay,” Frank whispered, a little bit anxious but willing to put it aside so long as the pleasure continued. He didn’t want to stop. The very last thing in the world he wanted was to stop.

“Okay, Baby, lift up for me,” Gerard said, starting to sit up, practically forcing Frank to prop himself back up on his aching knees—his thighs burning. 

Frank let out a small gasp when Gerard pulled out all the way, surprised that the loss of contact left him feeling so empty. He whimpered as his back was pressed against the mattress, but the sound was lost in Gerard’s lips as the other man started kissing him. Frank eagerly parted his lips and wrapped his arms around Gerard’s shoulders, holding him still as their mouths moved together. Gerard only kept the kiss going a little while, then pulled back and grabbed the small bottle of complimentary hair conditioner from the hotel bathroom. He slicked up his hand with the cream, then ran it along his length before pressing slowly back inside, moaning the entire time.

Frank stared up at him, breathing heavy. Before, it had been hard to keep Gerard in mind, but now—now that Gerard was overtop him, in control of him—Gerard was all Frank could see, all he wanted to see. He looked beautiful, even in the unflattering, yellow light. 

Frank wished he looked like that… Gerard looked like one of the actors, both handsome and in possession of a certain seductive charm. 

Gerard’s movements were slow at first, but once he’d made sure Frank was alright, he started picking up his pace. He had one hand braced on the pillow beside Frank’s head, the other gripping Frank’s thigh—keeping his leg up and spread wide.

When Frank wasn’t staring up at his boyfriend, he’d let his eyes slip closed and bite his lip against the onslaught of sensations—the stretching, the fullness, the burn that never fully went away and, of course, the electric shock that ran through him every time the head of Gerard’s cock struck against his sweet spot. 

Frank could hardly keep his noises back, even though he welcomed every sound his lover made. Every heavy breath, every shaking sigh, every moan or shrill gasp. Each sound just helped push Frank closer and closer to the edge as Gerard’s cock thrust into him—getting harder and harder each time.

Frank shuddered and wrapped his hand around his cock again, stroking himself as quickly as he could. His breaths started coming in shaky bursts and he felt the muscles in his abdomen getting tighter as Gerard pressed him down into the mattress. 

It became harder and harder to draw in a breath, but Frank didn’t care. He let his head fall back against the pillow and squeezed his eyes shut, moaning louder than he’d ever dare at home—not caring if anyone heard, almost hoping everybody _did_ hear. He wasn’t ashamed. He was high, he was in heaven. 

His cries got louder and louder, encouraged by Gerard who matched him moan for moan—digging his nails into Frank’s thigh. Frank couldn’t help but start rolling his hips, trying to help Gerard hit that spot more and more until—finally—he was cumming so hard that lights flashed behind his eyes, paralyzing him. For a moment, he barely even felt or heard anything. He was still being pressed in the bed, Gerard still moving in and out. 

Once he came down, the sensations started to be too much but he kept quiet—he forced his eyes open just a crack and watched Gerard’s face, stared at his parted lips. The oversensitivity was making his body shake, but it didn’t hurt. 

It wasn’t like the film, but it was perfect. 

For Frank, it was perfect.

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard thought for a moment that Frank had gone into shock, or had disconnected from him out of pain or fear. When he pulled out, Frank was just lying there—staring at him. But as soon as he leaned in for a kiss, Frank hungrily leaned up and reciprocated, hugging him close and wrapping his legs around Gerard’s hips. 

He wouldn’t say much aside from repeated I love yous, and Gerard moved them so they could lie side by side so Frank could curl against him and stay close as he came down. Gerard was honestly about to fall asleep, content to play with the longer strands of Frank’s hair, when Frank started to wake back up.

“Gerard?”

“Hm? Yeah, Baby?” Gerard asked.

“There’s a present in your suitcase… Is it for me?” Frank asked, reaching up and poking Gerard on the tip of his nose. 

“Of course it’s for you,” Gerard said, chuckling softly. “Do you want me to get it for you?”

“Yeah,” Frank said bashfully, biting his lips as he tried to hide his smile. 

“M’kay,” Gerard said, kissing the top of Frank’s head and getting up from the bed. He stretched his arms over his head as he walked over to the discarded suitcase and pulled out the red-wrapped package. “It’s not… It’s not much,” he said as he returned to his lover, sitting down on the bed. He pulled the blankets over to him, using them to cover his groin. Frank, for the first time Gerard could remember, was still lounging completely naked atop the sheets. He wasn’t even trying to cover himself, like he’d forgotten to be self-conscious about his scars.

It made Gerard think twice about handing him the package when he reached for it.

“Don’t tease me,” Frank whined, rolling onto his stomach and reaching for the package again. “Let me have it!”

“I… I just don’t want you to take it the wrong way,” Gerard said, offering Frank a lopsided smile, hoping the boy knew he wasn’t trying to be mean. 

“Gerard,” Frank whined, drawing the name out as long as he could. 

“Okay,” Gerard said, handing over the package and then leaning down to kiss Frank’s head before the boy could pull away in victory. 

The package was square, and thin, wrapped in shiny red paper from the Spend N Save. It was simple, not too fancy, but it still made him anxious when Frank ripped the decorative paper away to reveal the collection of sketches underneath. 

“You drew me?” Frank asked, sitting up and staring down at the first of the sketches. It was a simple portrait from when he’d had long hair—one Gerard had drawn shortly after they started dating. He hadn’t meant to ever show Frank the sketch, but after seeing how upset Frank would get sometimes—staring in the mirror with displeasure and _hatred_ —he wanted to show Frank what he saw. 

“Do you like it?” Gerard asked

“I… I don’t know,” Frank said, blushing hard. Gerard knew Frank just didn’t know what to make of it. “Are…are there more?”

“Yeah. There’s…a couple,” Gerard said, kissing Frank’s cheek.

Frank set the first sketch aside, then began giggling at the next one—a colored drawing of Zoe in one of her sweaters, her face resting on her squeaky fox chew toy. 

“I like this one!” Frank said, showing it to Gerard as if he weren’t the one who’d made it. “It’s cute.”

“Yeah?” Gerard said, giggling and kissing Frank on the mouth. 

The boy flipped through the next two sketches, one of which was a comic panel depicting Frank as some sort of hero, rescuing a fat little dog from a neglectful owner. The next was another portrait of Frank with his shorter hair, sleeping with his head rested on the kitchen table—as he had been one morning before he had to leave for school, his bowl of cereal neglected beside his head. 

“I…I don’t know if you should look at the next one,” Gerard said, reaching for the pages.

Frank pulled back, smiling at him. 

“Why?”

“I-I don’t think you’ll like it,” Gerard said, trying not to show how badly he wanted the sketch back before Frank could see it. He didn’t want it to turn it into a game. 

“Why not?” Frank asked, looking Gerard in the eye as he set the portrait aside, holding the final sketch in his hand but not yet looking at it. 

“Come on, give it to me. The others are…better,” Gerard said, barely able to get his fingers on the corner of the page before Frank pulled it away again—and looked down at it.

As Gerard expected, the smile fell away from Frank’s face as he looked at the drawing. His eyes darted back and forth across the page before going wide, then turning to look away at the wall—unhappy. Definitely unhappy.

“Why would you draw that?” Frank asked, letting the paper fall away onto the bed before pulling the blankets over to himself, concealing as much of his skin as he could. 

“I…” Gerard looked over at the discarded sketch, a full figure—a nude figure—of Frank on a bed. Every line was as Gerard saw his lover—nothing left out. He had Frank’s curves, his unkempt hairs, his scars… Beautiful. 

To Gerard, the sketch was beautiful—it was his lover, just on paper.

To Frank, it was nothing more than a snapshot of all his flaws. He didn’t see the affection Gerard had put into the shading of his face or the light in his eyes. 

“I wanted to draw you,” Gerard said.

“It’s ugly,” Frank said, shuddering.

“No,” Gerard said, picking up the sketch. It looked exactly like Frank—every line. The proportions were right, the shading was right… He wanted Frank to see how beautiful he was, how perfect. “Frank, it’s…it’s not ugly—you’re not…you’re not ugly.”

“You drew the scars,” Frank whimpered. “Why would you do that? Why would you…” He couldn’t even form the words, he just shook his head. 

“The scars…they’re part of you. I love all of you.”

“They’re _ugly,_ ” Frank whimpered. 

“No—Look. Baby…that’s such a small part of it.” He moved closer and set the picture in front of him, hoping Frank would look at it again but not willing to push it in the boy’s face. “I know you don’t like them, but I don’t see them as something bad about you. They’re just there… Like my scars, you know?” Trying to prove his point, Gerard moved the blankets away from his own legs, showing the three longs lines running across the inside of his right thigh. “Yeah, I wish they weren’t there and I wish…I wish I could’ve gotten out of explaining them to guys I’d be with, but…”

Gerard didn’t know what to say. Frank looked like he was about to start crying at any second and that wasn’t what he’d wanted to come of their night together. He wished he could take it back. He wished he’d been smart enough to realize Frank was too self-conscious to like such a precise portrait. 

He should’ve minimized it, he thought. Made Frank look thinner, left out the scars, clean up the hairs and the marks on his skin… He didn’t want to do that, though. He wanted to show Frank just how perfect he was—as he was. 

“I’m sorry,” Gerard said, grabbing the picture and preparing to destroy it—either rip it apart or crumple it into a ball—but just as he started to clench his fingers around it, Frank grabbed one of the corners of the page.

“Are my eyebrows really that pointy?” Frank asked, sniffing and licking his lips. Whether he was really taking to the drawing or trying to act like it when he noticed Gerard was upset, his boyfriend didn’t know.

“Yeah. They look good, Baby,” Gerard said, scooting a little closer to Frank.

“Do you like my eyes?” Frank asked, as if he really didn’t already know the answer.

“Yeah—they’re your best feature. It’s between them and your lips.”

Frank smiled, just slightly, then turned his focus back to the sketch. 

“Gerard?” He asked, his voice tiny.

“Yeah?” Gerard dared to move even closer, wrapping his arms around Frank’s shoulder and resting his head on the back of the boy’s shoulder. 

“Do you… Do you _like_ my scars? Like… Are they p-part of why you’re dating me?” Frank turned his head to look at him, still seeming so small and unhappy.

“The only reason your scars have anything to do with us being together is because of how you got them,” Gerard said. “I… I’m _sad_ your mom did that to you. I wish, for your sake, you didn’t have them—because I know how self-conscious you are about them. You don’t think anyone can see past them, but…anyone who doesn’t want you because of your scars isn’t worth having you. I think they make you beautiful.”

“Really?” Frank asked, looking doubtfully back down at the sketch.

“Yes.” Gerard nuzzled Frank’s shoulder, mentally cursing himself for thinking it was appropriate to give him the sketch. He’d just wanted Frank to see what he did. He wanted Frank to see the imperfect perfection—to see it and love himself the way Gerard loved him.

“Gerard?”

“Yeah, Baby?” Gerard whispered, kissing Frank’s shoulder.

“The…the stuff’s coming out,” he whined, setting the sketch aside with the others and tipping his head back against Gerard’s shoulder. 

“I’m sorry… I should’ve pulled out. I _really_ shouldn’t have…finished in there. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Frank muttered. “Can…can we take a shower together?”

“You want to?” Gerard asked, surprised Frank would want him to come along.

“I need to get clean,” Frank said.

“I don’t have to come with you,” Gerard said, kissing Frank’s cheek in hopes that it would show the boy he didn’t mean he didn’t want to tag along. 

“I always wanted to ask you at home, but I’m scared Mikey will tell Mom about it,” Frank said, sniffing and trying to shake off the sadness. “You’re gross too. You should come in the shower with me.”

“Come in the shower with you, huh?” Gerard asked, smirking. “I don’t know if I can get it up again, Baby.”

“No!” Frank said, blushing hard and giggling. “Please no—it stings. I don’t want to do anything else.”

“Are you sure? You’re young—you’re built to keep going,” Gerard said, his tone gentle and playful as he squeezed Frank once more in a tight hug before sliding out of the bed. 

“No I’m not,” Frank whined, shaking his head and allowing Gerard to pull him up from the bed. He stumbled and needed help standing at first, crying out in protest on the pain between his legs. Gerard kept an arm around him and helped him to the bathroom, kissing him on the temple every few steps for encouragement. 

He noticed when they were in the bright lights of the cramped bathroom that along with the semen running down Frank’s thigh, there was a thin trail of blood. 

“Are you feeling okay, Baby?” Gerard said making sure to get his body between Frank and the mirror before the boy could see the blood. 

“I’m sore,” Frank said, crinkling his nose. “I don’t know how they do it in the video…my legs are killing me.”

Gerard smiled and shook his head, watching as Frank turned on the water. A drop of blood fell onto the floor and Gerard bit his lip as he stared at it, hoping Frank wouldn’t see it and get scared. How was it that Frank could cry and have panic attacks over fingering, but didn’t even let out a whimper after really being torn? It was _never_ Gerard’s intention to hurt him and he’d never, ever doubt that Frank exaggerated his pain—but how in the hell had he drawn blood from the boy without Frank even tearing up?

“Just your legs, Baby?” Gerard pressed.

“Well, other stuff, too,” Frank said, looking over his shoulder at Gerard, blushing and giggling bashfully. “Obviously.” He turned back to the shower and worked to get the water warm before stepping inside, past the white, plastic curtain. 

Gerard followed quickly after him and wrapped his arms around Frank’s waist immediately, wanting to be close—hoping Frank could tell just how much he loved him.

“Gerard, I’m _bleeding,_ ” Frank said as soon as he spotted the reddish cloud of water on the floor of the shower. His voice was a low whine, as if he really weren’t concerned about it.

“I’m sorry, Baby. Does it hurt bad?”

“No… It _hurts,_ but I didn’t know I was _bleeding…_ ” 

“I can kiss it and make it better,” Gerard suggested, prying himself off Frank’s back and grabbing the washcloth from where he’d hung it over the curtain rod after he’d finished his shower earlier. 

“Ew! No!” Frank said, giggling and watching as Gerard soaped up the wash cloth. He was watching Gerard’s hands expectantly and started laughing again when Gerard turned him around and began washing his back for him. He couldn’t leave it there, though. Once he’d cleaned his back, he started rubbing down Frank’s arms with the cloth—and kissing the back of his neck as he did.

He managed to get a small gasp from the boy when he moved the cloth to his chest, slowly dragging the fabric over Frank’s right nipple. Gerard gently wiped the cloth down Frank’s stomach and traced the arch of his hip, then returned to suckling his neck as he ran the cloth over his left nipple, circling it again and again until he noticed Frank getting hard a second time. 

Gerard slowly turned Frank around in his arms and ducked his head, sucking one of Frank’s nipples into his mouth and rolling the other between his fingers. 

“Oh—Oh, f-fu…fuck,” Frank whimpered, his hips bucking forward in want of friction. His noises were quick to become shrill as Gerard swirled his tongue around Frank’s sensitive nipple—and then nipped it. “Ow!—Oh… F-Fuck.” His voice was so meek when he swore, like he was afraid someone might overhear—and like that person, if they were around to overhear, would only be upset about the cursing. 

His moans only got louder as Gerard slid his hands down Frank’s sides, then began kissing his way lower and lower until he was on his knees on the shower floor, staring up at his boyfriend as the water splashed down on his back. He was determined to make up for every stray drop of blood that ran past his knees toward the drain, and for every second of their day together that Frank hadn’t spent smiling.


	66. Chapter 66

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is far from being my best chapter to date, but I have a lot on my mind and it's really hard to focus enough to write, even though I want to in order to relax and unwind after work. Updates may not be so regular anymore, but I want use writing to de-stress and pressing myself to write faster had only served to make me more anxious.

_Chapter 66_

Gerard woke up to the sounds of Frank’s quiet, little moans. The boy was still asleep, his head rested heavily on Gerard’s chest where he’d fallen asleep the night before. He made no motions, just laid there moaning and mumbling in his sleep—trying to talk. Gerard let out a sleepy sigh and lifted his hand to start stroking Frank’s hair, making the boy twitch. He didn’t wake up, though—he just groaned a little and shook his head.

Gerard didn’t try to wake him, just laid there with one hand rested on top of Frank’s head—cradling him. He hated that it was morning—he hated that Frank would have to be woken soon so they could get breakfast…and make their way home.

Frank looked so peaceful, though… 

He let the boy sleep ten minutes longer, listening to his sleepy little mumbles—making out a word or two and smiling to himself when he heard the boy say his name. 

“Baby… Baby, it’s morning,” Gerard whispered, jostling Frank’s shoulder a little and petting the top of his head. “Come on, Baby.”

Frank groaned and shifted around until he had slid away from Gerard’s chest and had his face pressed into the pillows. 

“Frankie—come on. You have to wake up.”

“No,” Frank said, his voice cracking with sleep.

“Come on,” Gerard said with a laugh, rolling over to snuggle up to Frank again. He started planting kisses on Frank’s cheeks and forehead whenever he could get the boy to lift up from the pillow, waking him as gently as he could. Finally, after close to twenty minutes of gentle touches, Frank came around and started initiating kissing himself. He returned to his place on Gerard’s chest, but instead of sleeping he kissed Gerard’s neck and chin—then finally got up to use the restroom and get dressed. 

He walked with a distinct limp and whimpered to himself as he pulled on his fresh clothes. 

“Are you okay, Baby?” Gerard asked, watching Frank struggle. He remembered the line of blood he’d seen on Frank’s thighs the night before in the shower and was fearful he’d really caused damage. 

“It hurts,” Frank said, looking at the hotel floor as he pulled on his long-sleeved shirt. It was one Gerard had picked out with him long ago when they’d first gone shopping for new clothes. It was almost too small for him now since Frank had gained so much weight.

To Gerard, he was beautiful—he would be beautiful at any weight. Frank hated it, though. He was self-conscious about the extra chub around his hips and though Donna only mentioned it once, the social workers had mentioned “concerns” about his health.

Gerard hated that… How they could look at Frank, who had been starved to the point where he’d steal fruit cups and cans of vegetables from the Spend N Save, and criticize him now for overeating—making up for all the meals he’d lost—he couldn’t comprehend. 

“Is there still blood?” Gerard asked.

“I washed it off in the bathroom… Am I always going to bleed like that?” Frank asked, not looking at Gerard as he spoke. 

“I hope not. You shouldn’t—maybe I was a little too rough last night. I’m sorry.”

“I’m okay,” Frank said. “I…I didn’t mind it,” he added, giggling a little to himself and coming over to the bed, now fully dressed. He climbed across the mattress and came to Gerard, kissing him on the mouth. 

“What do you want to get for breakfast today?” Gerard asked, holding Frank tight—pulling him back down onto the bed and wrapping him up in his arms. 

He didn’t want to leave the hotel. He wanted to hold Frank close to him forever. He wished time could stop. They didn’t have any problems here, not in the safe, unfamiliar room. 

“I…want eggs.”

“Eggs? I take you to the city and you just want _eggs?_ ” Gerard asked, giggling and pulling Frank even closer. 

“Eggs are good!” Frank whined, holding Gerard just as tightly as the other man held him. 

“We could go to a diner—you can get your eggs however you want them,” Gerard said.

“Scrambled. Like Mom makes them at home.”

Gerard laughed, left a little speechless. One day on the town and Frank was already homesick by morning—missing Donna and the home-cooked meals. 

“Do you want me to just take you home?” Gerard asked, smiling—making sure his tone stayed light. He didn’t want to cut their day short, but if Frank wanted to go home he would agree. He would still have the whole drive home to spend with his baby. 

“No. I want breakfast. I’m so hungry.” He sighed heavily as he confessed it—no doubt hating the way his stomach commanded him. 

“Then we’ll go find someplace to eat, okay? Just let me get dressed.” Gerard kissed Frank’s cheek one last time, then crawled out of the bed and put on his clothes while Frank laid there and watched.

Once he was dressed, he and Frank packed up their scattered clothing from the night before along with Gerard’s sketches, and checked out of the hotel. They checked a flier on the desk in the lobby and Gerard let Frank pick a restaurant from the breakfast column. It was a small little place, full of elderly people who passed them sideways glances. 

Frank didn’t seem to notice them, however. He looked at the menu first, then Gerard second. Once he ordered his meal of scrambled eggs (dairy free, of course) with fried vegetables, he stared at Gerard and smiled with a fondness Gerard had _never_ seen before. Not from any boyfriend before. It was the sort of stare Hollywood tried to replicate in movies. It almost scares him how _in love_ Frank looks. 

“Are you okay?” Gerard asked, sipping his coffee. 

“Yeah,” Frank said, shrugging and laughing to himself. 

“You’re staring at me,” Gerard added.

“I love you,” Frank said, as if that were answer enough—then laughed again and took a drink of his orange juice. 

“Is there anything you still want to see before we go home?”

“Not really,” Frank said, looking down at the table. “I… I kind of miss Mom and…”

“And?”

“And Zoe,” Frank said, sounding a little embarrassed. “I don’t want her to forget about me.”

“Trust me. You’re her favorite human in the world—Zoe’s not going to forget about you.”

“I hope not,” Frank said, sounding a little doubtful.

Gerard just shook his head. 

“This is the first time you’ve been out without…without a parent isn’t it?” Gerard asked. 

“Yeah,” Frank said. “I mean, Momma would leave me with my grandma sometimes, but I’ve never really gone anywhere far from home without Momma.”

“Hopefully this was a good one,” Gerard said, desperate to get the sadness out of Frank’s eyes. He wanted that Hollywood love-struck look back.

“Good one?” Frank asked, looking up—all of that happiness back. “Gerard, I…” Frank paused, looking down at the table—blushing hard—and giggling. “This is…this is the happiest I’ve ever been, like… I don’t know. I feel… I feel so _safe_ with you, you know? And…the hotel…it was like our own apartment. I wish we could just stay there.” 

“Me too, Baby,” Gerard said. “God… I wish we could just live together.”

“Maybe when…maybe when I graduate, we can move to New York together,” Frank said, his eyes lighting up. “D-Do you think we could do that?”

“Yeah,” Gerard said, unable to say no to his boyfriend. “I’d love that, Baby.”

Frank started laughing to himself, a shy, quiet laugh that only grew stronger and stronger the happier he got. It made Gerard feel high just watching it. In the back of his mind, he always had that image of Frank crying and shaking in the back of the Spend N Save. To have taken Frank from that awful state and turned him into this—this giddy, bubbly, _squirmy_ mess of a boy—it filled him with pride. 

Finally, he’d done something good with his life. Finally, he’d proved himself worthy of someone better than one night stands and disinterested partners. He was the reason Frank was so happy. He was the one who got the boy to smile again, to accept love, to be taken to the city without crying from the conflicting emotions he used to have when he received gifts.

When they got their meal, Frank kept smiling at Gerard as he ate. He would blush and laugh—then stuff his mouth full to avoid answering Gerard’s questions.

He still couldn’t believe a small trip could give his boyfriend so much pleasure.

( ) ( ) ( )

Donna sighed in relief when Frank and Gerard made their way through front door. Frank had stopped answering her messages abruptly the night before, then would only respond with one or two word answers that morning. Gerard—he didn’t answer at all, probably having his phone on silent to avoid any unwanted calls from work. Donna began to worry—irrationally, she knew—that they had been murdered, or had been hurt and Frank’s phone had been taken by the attacker. 

The boy was so clingy before this trip and it terrified her when he didn’t answer within minutes—or even hours. Perhaps he was growing up—perhaps he was happy to be alone with his boyfriend, far from home and doing God knows what in the privacy of some hotel. 

However, as soon as the two entered the house, Frank came to Donna and hugged her—leaving Gerard with the luggage and a fistful of bags. Zoe jumped up and down, excited to see her best friend, and Frank petted her head with one hand while clinging to Donna with the other.

Donna, of course, hugged him back and kissed the top of his head, smiling to herself as the boy clung to her. 

“What, did you miss me or something?” She asked when several seconds past and Frank had yet to let go of her.

“Yeah,” Frank said, pulling back a little but keeping his arm around her even still while Zoe licked at the fingers of the hand he had at his side.

“You quit answering my texts yesterday, you know. It had me worried.”

Frank started blushing and looked over his shoulder at Gerard who started immediately for the stairwell down to the basement—that alone told Donna more than she wanted to know. (Not that she didn’t already have an idea of what the two boys would get into in a hotel room alone together.) 

“Do you want me to help make lunch?” Frank asked.

“I was just going to make sandwiches. Why don’t you go upstairs and practice guitar with Mikey for a bit? He’s a little…jealous that you got to go to the city and he didn’t.”

“Oh…” Frank looked from her back to the basement stairs where Gerard had gone. “Let me just put my coat away and I’ll go practice. It’s easier now—with the cast off and everything.” He seemed a bit anxious, but Mikey had told her Frank was self-conscious about his playing. He was hard to teach as well since every slight mistake caused Frank to crumble and succumb to self-loathing. 

His mother had him convinced he was incompetent and not worth anyone’s time, and every little mistake playing a new song seemed to drive the thought deeper. 

Frank hurried toward the stairs, stripping off his coat as he did. When he got downstairs, Zoe at his heels, Donna heard Gerard’s voice and then Frank’s high-pitched giggle. She rolled her eyes and went back to washing the dishes.

( ) ( ) ( )

Returning to school after the peaceful, wonderful weekend Frank had spent with Gerard felt like torture. He wanted to stay home. He wanted to stay with Gerard, snuggling in bed and kissing. They hardly _stopped_ kissing now. Frank didn’t even feel fear when Gerard would slip his hand between his legs at night—he just accepted it. He felt so safe and he knew Gerard touched him that way out of love. By Wednesday, they’d already gotten each other off at least five times—Frank letting Gerard go all the way again on Tuesday night, even though he had to ask him to stop halfway through from the nerves. 

Gerard listened—he didn’t argue or anything. It made Frank love him even more. He got so many kisses after asking Gerard to stop. He loved kisses—especially when Gerard would let them trail down his neck and throat. 

It was hard not to think about those touches when he was bored in class…

Not that school had stayed boring after his return. 

On Monday, Frank gave Jamia the gift he’d picked out for her in the city and had gotten a hug. One of the jocks in the lunchroom had made some sort of comment—Frank hadn’t really heard much of it except “the faggot” and “the dike”—but it had set Jamia off. 

She’d gone over and punched the guy. It had scared Frank so much to see his best friend lash out so suddenly, but it have him some satisfaction, too, to see the boy on the cafeteria floor clutching his face. 

Jamia got suspended for three days for fighting—and so did the jock since he had apparently fought back before Jamia decked him. 

For the first couple of days, no one said anything to Frank about it, almost as if they were afraid of him since Jamia had so violently protected him. Then, on Wednesday, it all fell back into routine. 

He hated gym class—hated that he’d been put back into gym class after winter break since the school knew him to have healed from the injuries his mother had given him—and hated having to change in the locker room in front of the other boys.

Gerard was careful not to leave marks on his skin, but Frank was always afraid there would be something for the boys in his class to see and make fun of. 

When he changed into his gym clothes—a pair of black sweat pants and a white t-shirt—they said nothing to him, but after class it was as though there were a target painted on his back. 

They started in on him immediately after he’d stripped off his shirt. When he tried to hurriedly pull on his black and grey striped tee, one of the boys next to him grabbed it out of his hands and threw it on the floor. Without much thought, Frank bent over to pick the shirt back up, not expecting it when he felt unwanted hands on his hips and, all of a sudden, his sweatpants and boxer briefs were being tugged down.

As soon as he felt the fabric start sliding down his hips, he dropped to the floor, knowing what was about to happen and determined to stop it. He flipped over quickly, bringing his knees to his chest as he sat on the hard gym floor, his back pressed against his metal locker—staring up at the three jocks who were staring at him with malice. 

“Leave me alone,” Frank dared to mutter—knowing he barely sounded stern or threatening. 

“What’s the matter? Isn’t a fag like you used to taking it off in front of men?”

He wanted to say something—something like ‘I don’t see any men here’ or something similar but more commanding—but nothing came to mind. He just sat there staring up at them, terrified. 

He didn’t know what it was, but something in the boys’ faces changed as they shared glances with one another. Frank swallowed hard and looked around, hoping to see a gap between the boys that he could use to escape or a friend in the room who might intervene, but there was nothing. Frank knew there was going to be pain.

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard was on his lunch break when his phone lit up, showing a call though he had his phone on silent. He looked at it in confusion when he saw that it was Frank’s number, then looked at the clock hanging on the wall above the desk. It was only twelve-thirty. Frank shouldn’t have time to make a call.

He almost let the call go unanswered, thinking that it had to be a pocket dial rather than a real call. But then he got a sinking feeling and picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“H-Hey,” Frank stammered. His voice was shaky. He was crying.

His baby was crying.

“What’s wrong?—Frankie, what happened?”

“C-Can you come get me?”

“Frank, what happened?” Gerard pressed.

“Um… I-I…I just need you. Can you c-come get me. Please?” He sniffed loudly and let out a shaky little breath. “Please?”

“Baby…I can’t check you out. Only Mom can check you out. Do you need me to call her?”

“No! I need _you!_ ” Frank started sobbing and Gerard’s chest tightened. 

“Okay—Okay. I’ll come get you. Don’t cry. Just tell me what happened.”

“Th-the guys in my class beat me up,” Frank whimpered, his voice cracking. “It really hurts.”

“Who beat you up?” Gerard asked, anger and hatred pooling in his stomach as Frank mumbled out a couple of names through his tears. “I’m gonna come get you, okay? But I have to bring Mom too. I can’t check you out. I’m not your guardian—but I can be there for you.”

Gerard hated that he had to hang up the phone to call his mother, telling her to go pick up Frank because he was hurt. Her rage matched with Gerard’s and she swore she was going to raise hell for the boys who hurt her son. 

He clocked out and left the store, telling Ellen what happened as he did. She, too, was infuriated by the thought that anyone would hurt Frank and asked that Gerard tell Frank she hoped he felt better soon. 

Gerard had to call Frank again once he reached the school. He expected to find Frank in the office, but the secretary just commented that Frank wasn’t in class where he was supposed to be and no one knew where he was.

After stepping back into the hall, Gerard called Frank’s phone and learned, after deciphering another tearful explanation, that Frank was hiding in the locker room where he’d been left by his attackers. 

“Where in the locker room, Baby?” Gerard whispered, feeling uncomfortable memories swirling around him as he navigated the familiar hallways. 

“In the back,” Frank whimpered. “Are you here?”

“Yes, I’m here,” Gerard said, keeping his head low as he walked past a teacher. The woman gave him a sideways look, but didn’t ask any questions. Not the best security, Gerard thought as he slipped into the locker room. 

Right away he could hear Frank sniffling both through the phone and in the room.

“Frank?” Gerard called, listening intently as he stepped further into the room.

He could hear rustling, then the hollow banging of one of the lockers. Gerard felt a cold bolt go through his stomach—thinking Frank had been stuffed inside one of the narrow, tiny lockers—but then he heard a shuffling sound on the concrete floor. 

Then Frank stepped into view around one of the rows of lockers, clutching his stomach with his head ducked low. 

Gerard hurried over to him, putting his phone in his pocket, and looked the boy over. His lip was split and dripped blood down onto his striped t-shirt. He was still dressed in his gym sweats and the front of them was speckled with blood. 

“Shit, Frank, what did they do!?” Gerard exclaimed, grabbing Frank’s chin and tipping his head back. He had a bruise on his cheek and a black eye. Whoever had beaten him had no intention of keeping it private—they wanted him to wear their bruises. They did it on school property, too. Whenever Gerard got beat down it was usually on his walk home… 

“Can I go home now?” Frank whimpered. “I just want to go home.”

“Did they chip your teeth?” Gerard asked, disturbed by how bloody and red his bottom lip was. 

“I don’t know,” Frank whimpered, shuddering and slumping forward. 

“What hurts?—Babe, you’re… Are you okay?” Gerard was at a loss for words. It hurt him—it enraged him—to see Frank bloody and trembling. He wanted to get his hands around the necks of whoever dared to do this. 

“No,” Frank cried. “Th-they kept kicking me.”

“They kicked you? Th-that’s how you got the bruises?” Gerard asked, wrapping his arms around Frank and holding him tightly. 

“Yeah. They’re mad because Jamia punched Derick’s brother,” Frank cried. Gerard remembered hearing about the fight the day it had happened and hadn’t thought much of it except that he was glad a brawl hadn’t broken out—pleased his boyfriend hadn’t gotten hurt in the crossfire. But now, Frank was hurt. He was bleeding and crying and barely able to move as Gerard tried to guide him out of the locker room. 

Frank had to stop walking two or three times, gasping in pain and doubling over. 

“What hurts?” Gerard pressed, knowing it was more than the bruises on his face.

“They…they kicked me,” Frank whimpered.

“In the stomach?”

“Yeah and…lower,” Frank confessed, trembling as they neared the office. “Is Mom here?”

“Not yet,” Gerard said softly, helping to keep Frank supported as they walked into the room. 

“Oh goodness!” The secretary called out, her fake concern almost enough to make Gerard snap. She had no compassion for Frank when she’d mentioned to Gerard that the boy was missing, but now she wanted to fawn over the boy. “What happened?”

When she asked, Frank said nothing. He just shook his head and struggled to keep from nestling further into Gerard’s side as they waited for Donna.


	67. Chapter 67

_Chapter 67_

Frank had resisted, but Donna forced him to go to the ER. She couldn’t stand seeing him in so much pain and knew something was seriously wrong when the boy couldn’t manage two or three steps without stopping and whining from pain. Gerard sat with him in the backseat of the SUV and held him, kissing his cheek and rubbing his arm, trying to console him. 

Donna could tell, even from her small glances in the rearview mirror, how much the boy meant to her son. Gerard seldom let others cling to him the way Frank did, and had always been awkward when it came time to show affection or pity. With Frank, that generosity seemed to come naturally to Gerard. He happily offered that boy all of the love he had and nurtured him through any and all of his pains. 

When they got to the ER, Frank was still struggling to walk—even more than before—and wouldn’t let go of his stomach. 

He started crying harder as soon as they walked through the emergency room doors, then tried to turn around and walk back out—denying that he needed help, promising he was fine and just needed to go home and lay down. 

Gerard grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him to stay put, guiding him over to the uncomfortable waiting room chairs while Donna filled out the paperwork at the registration desk. Frank sat shamelessly with his head on Gerard’s shoulder, letting his boyfriend pet his hair and whisper to him. Donna could see the intimacy in the touches—far more intimate than brothers ever should be—but no one else in the waiting room seemed to notice or care.

Frank tried to keep his cries quiet as he sat in the chair, but he kept squirming and every movement seemed to cause him to cry out until the nurse—having enough of the distracting cries—called them to an exam room after only thirty minutes. 

Donna had to wait outside of the makeshift room, outside the light blue curtain drawn over Frank’s isolated corner of the ER, as Gerard helped him to change into a hospital gown. Frank let out a shrill scream at one point and the nurse standing beside Gerard looked at the curtain in surprise. 

“Beaten up at school, you said?” The nurse asked.

“That’s what he told me,” Donna said, listening to Frank’s cries.

“Kids these days are just _ruthless._ All those violent videogames,” the nurse said, shaking her head.

Gerard poked his head out then and told them Frank had finished changing and Donna and the nurse were able to come in. Frank laid on his side in the bed, sobbing softly as the nurse took his arm and hooked him to an IV and asked all the routine questions. Whenever he had trouble answering, Gerard would speak for him—or interpret his slurred mumbles. 

“And where would you say most of the pain is?” The nurse asked, hooking Frank to the heart monitor.

“My stomach,” Frank cried. “It hurts so bad. They kept _kicking_ me. They wouldn’t _stop”_ He looked at Donna as he said it, pleading with his eyes for her to come closer to him, to show him pity and affection—all the things his mother had denied him when he was hurt.

Unable to resist him, Donna came over and started smoothing his hair and wiped a little line of blood away from his bottom lip. 

She kept petting him and rubbing his shoulder as they waited for nearly an hour for the doctor to come. By that point, Frank seemed to have exhausted himself from all his crying and he merely lie on the bed whimpering every now and then.

“Got beaten up at school, huh?” The doctor asked, looking at his clipboard before setting it down on the counter by the sink.

“Yeah,” Frank whispered, rolling over onto his back and crying out in pain as he did. Gerard had pulled away from him just before the doctor entered, and Frank seemed distressed to not have a hand to clutch onto as the pain shot through him. 

“What seems to be hurting you the most? Your stomach” The doctor asked, noting the way Frank clutched at it. 

“Yeah—and my chest.”

“Your chest?” The doctor came over to his bedside, standing on the opposite side from Donna and Gerard, and gently pushed Frank’s arms aside so he could feel Frank’s stomach and chest, checking for abnormalities and asking Frank every now and then if his touch hurt or if he felt anything else. 

For the most part, Frank’s responses stayed the same—an occasional gasp and a yes or a no—but when the doctor pressed on one of his ribs, he let out a loud squeak and brought his knees up protectively, almost slamming one of his knees into the doctor’s head. 

“And you said they _kicked_ you?” The doctor asked, going to his clipboard and writing something down rapidly. 

“Yeah,” Frank cried, squeezing his eyes shut as he trembled and cried. “Th-they punched my f-face but it doesn’t hurt that bad. It’s my…my stomach and my ribs.” His voice kept cracking and he threw his head back on the starched, white pillow.

Donna could see how much Gerard was fidgeting just watching his boyfriend in so much pain. He wanted to hold him—he could barely contain himself. 

“I don’t feel any abnormal swelling in his abdomen,” the doctor said, turning to look at Donna, “but I’m going to order some X-rays for his chest. There’s a possibility that his ribs may have been fractured and we just want to make sure everything’s still where it needs to be and isn’t going to cause any more problems.” He said a bit more about how fractured ribs are painful but usually nothing to fear, but Donna couldn’t focus.

She was so angry—so bitterly angry. She was going to raise hell with that school. She was going to terrorize the parents of those boys who had hurt her son. She would make sure they _paid_ for this. 

The very _last_ thing Frank needed was to be beaten—to have his ribs broken. To be left in a bed screaming and crying because he hurt so badly—shaking he was in so much pain.

( ) ( ) ( )

Two fractured ribs, multiple bruises, a split lip, and a black eye. Gerard couldn’t handle it. Even though Frank was medicated and slipping in and out of a hazy sleep, Gerard couldn’t rest. Frank had told him that the boys had kicked him between the legs many, many times but had never spoken a word to the doctor about it. He didn’t want examined in that way again, he’d said. It was too humiliating and when Gerard raised his concerns, then swore it didn’t hurt as bad as it had when his mother had struck him. He’d been able to protect himself, most of the force of their kicks going to his inner thighs or stomach rather than his groin. 

Or so he said. 

Gerard managed to coax Frank into letting him see, and it made Gerard’s stomach drop when he saw a red abrasion among the bruises on the boy’s sensitive groin. There was a small smear of blood on his penis, coming from a scrape that Frank swore happened while his pants were still on. 

They had _tried_ to de-pants him, Frank had said, something the idiot jocks did to tease one another and people they disliked—but he dropped to the floor to avoid it. That was when they’d started kicking and punching him. 

Before he’d passed out, he’d whimpered that he was scared they’d damaged him “down there”—ignoring Gerard’s question when he asked again and again why he hadn’t mentioned it to the doctor. The doctor could help—if there was damage, the doctor could reverse it. 

Frank wouldn’t explain anything more than feeling ashamed and embarrassed, but whispered out his fear that if he was broken “in that way,” Gerard wouldn’t want him anymore. No amount of kisses changed his mind. He was anxious and heartbroken for an event that he had no control over—a possible outcome, a worst case scenario. 

Gerard tried so hard to get Frank to calm down—to see that Gerard loved him whether he could respond to intimate touch or not. Would he be upset if it turned out Frank had refused the medical care he needed to keep the kicks from leaving permanent damage? Yes. Would he leave Frank because of it, though? No… He really didn’t think he would. 

After Frank had been sleeping for at least fifteen minutes, Gerard dared to pull away from the boy and get up from the bed—too restless to fall asleep himself and finding it unbearable to keep so still. He sat at his desk for a little while but was too distraught to focus on sketching or even try to read, so he slipped quietly upstairs to sit with his mother and Mikey in the living room.

“Is he asleep?” Mikey asked, looking up from his cell phone for only a moment.

“Yeah. He passed out.”

“I can’t believe those assholes beat him up _that bad,_ ” Mikey said, shaking his head. “He didn’t even do anything. I heard he was trying to hold Jamia back the whole fight with Ben. As far as they’re concerned, he was pretty much on _their_ side.”

“I’m going to get those boys’ names,” their mother said. She’d been trying to get Frank to tell her, but he wouldn’t and Gerard was ashamed to admit he couldn’t remember what Frank had told him.

“It was probably Ben’s brother Derick and his cousin. They’re all on the basketball team together,” Mikey said.

“Yeah, I remember Frank saying something about a Derick kid.”

“Then it was probably Derick and Tony…and either Sam or Rico,” Mikey said, setting his phone aside on the couch and shaking his head.

“It wasn’t Rico… He told me the names. I would’ve remembered a Rico. I think Tony is right…”

“Then it was Sam. That’s Ben’s crowd. It’s just really shitty that they’d corner him like that. He didn’t even have anything to do with it.”

“Give me their last names,” their mother said. “I’ll call the school tomorrow. I want those boys expelled. I won’t have it. You don’t touch my son and get away with it.”

“You mean your _favorite_ son,” Gerard said, rolling his eyes. He’d gotten his ass handed to him on a weekly basis by jocks and thugs and his mother hardly batted an eye. Mikey was luckily invisible to most of the jocks and had even earned one of the football player’s favor by doing his homework for him in math class one year. Gerard hadn’t been smart enough for that luxury.

“Yeah,” Mikey echoed, fixing his mother with a slightly annoyed gaze. 

“He is not my _favorite,_ ” their mother protested. 

“Yeah he is,” Gerard argued. “You called the school once about me getting beaten up and it was because I begged you.”

His mother rolled her eyes and shook her head, unwilling to admit that she’d never stood up for her own child the way she did Frank. Gerard hadn’t been pathetic enough—he hadn’t come to her damaged enough to warrant protection, it seemed. 

“He’s been through enough. He just got his cast off—he didn’t need to get his ribs broken. No one ever broke your ribs, Gerard.”

“We’ll never know—you never took me to the hospital,” Gerard said. He’d had two of his fingers broken by jocks in school—fortunately on his left hand—and his mother’s solution was splinting them and feeding him ibuprofen. Sure, everything had healed alright, but it would’ve been nice to get a little empathy—even a fraction of what Frank got on a daily basis. 

“Oh stop. You grew up just fine. Now you get to beat people up for pay. I took Frank to the hospital because he couldn’t even _walk,_ Gerard. Would you have wanted me to just take him home?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Gerard argued, rolling his eyes. She would never understand. She was stubborn. Frank was her favorite and she only had pity for him. 

Unwilling to argue anymore, Gerard leaned forward and grabbed up the laptop that was sitting on the coffee table in front of him. It was Frank’s and he was fortunate enough to know the password. 

It wasn’t hard to guess, really. 

Zo3!:) 

Once he’d logged in he wasn’t really certain what to do. Frank had open his social media pages and about thirty messages from Jamia were on his screen—asking how he was, if he was feeling okay, wondering why he left school early, desperate to hear back from him. 

Gerard didn’t feel much into snooping but checked Frank’s other messages, just to make sure no one was sending him anything cruel or mean that he was trying to keep a secret. 

His Facebook was clean, though. Only a couple messages in his inbox—one thread from Mikey, one from a girl asking about homework, and another from a boy talking about a group project. Frank only had fifteen friends… It was sad, but in some respects Gerard was glad Frank didn’t add everyone in his class. That just opened the door for bullies to find him and harass him. All of his friends, it seemed, were mutual friends with Jamia.

Gerard closed the social media page and shifted around on the couch to keep the screen blocked from Mikey’s view as he opened up Frank’s history, smirking to himself when he saw how full it was. The boy knew nothing about computers—not even how to delete his history or cookies. 

In no time at all, Gerard would be able to find the exact videos Frank had been watching—where he’d been getting the naughty ideas he’d wanted to try in the bedroom. 

He felt a little guilty snooping through the boy’s history, but giggled when he saw some of the blatant searches the boy had made like “how do guys have sex?” and “how to make sex not hurt.” There were also other things—sad things—such as “panic attacks” and “anxiety,” and “anxiety attack during sex.”

He clicked a couple of the links wondering if Frank had posted in any forums, but nothing he saw on the pages fitted with Frank. 

Not until one…

It was website encouraging a safe environment for teens to talk about sex. The page Gerard was directed to was a forum about older partners and peer pressure. A lot of the posts were short and all seemed to be responses to a girl with a boyfriend who was older than her by two years—making him nineteen while she was seventeen. Everyone spoke in favor of their relationship because he appeared respectful and caring, even though she wasn’t technically legal yet. 

Then Gerard found what had to be Frank’s post—had to be. 

The user introduced himself awkward, avoiding giving a name but offering a few small details about his life with his foster family. 

_Im not scared of my boyfriend but I get scared he’ll leave me because I don’t really like the sex stuff. It feels good and its fun sometimes but it makes me really nervous. He’s older than me and knows more and has a lot of exes who know more than me too. I know we have to do more stuff for me to get better but I don’t like it. It scares me and it hurts when he gets me take things further._

That line bothered Gerard—gets me to take things further. Gets was the same as coaxed, forced. 

_We touch each other a lot and I know he wants more but I don’t know how and its embarrassing. I want to be better but I keep getting scared. It always hurts a lot when he tries and I don’t know what to do. I know its going to hurt and I start to panic. He’s not mean to me but I know he wants to and I want to be able to do it. I don’t want him to dump me but Im so bad at sex stuff and I don’t know what to do to get better. I get really scared and I know he’s losing his patience but what am I supposed to do? I don’t know how to be calm and let it happen. I try really hard to act like it feels good but usually it doesn’t when we go all the way. I love him and I trust him but he can scare me sometimes. I don’t want to disappoint him or get dumped and I want to do sex stuff but it hurts so much. I don’t know what to do._

The post was made three days before Valentine’s Day, before their romantic vacation, but it ripped Gerard’s heart out because he knew those anxieties were the same—they were still there. He worried now that he’d missed a cue, that he’d somehow pressured Frank when they were on vacation. After all, Frank said he was scared of Gerard sometimes. 

Scared of him.

That hurt like hell. 

Gerard scrolled down and skimmed the responses—a fair few were insults directed at him for being gay, others at Gerard for taking advantage of him, but a few had real advice. 

_Talk to your boyfriend about how he scares you. Maybe he doesn’t know it’s hurting you. He’s used to older people probably who say if they’re hurt or not. You don’t need to be scared of him unless you really think he’s going to hurt you on purpose. Do you think he’ll hurt you on purpose?_

Another girl gave him tips on how to deal with panic attacks and ended her speech with a very blunt “if he’s giving you panic attacks in the sack, he’s not the right guy for you.”

Frank might have read the responses, but he never answered them. The last post on the thread was a different teen with a different question.

“What’s your problem?” Mikey asked.

“Nothing,” Gerard snapped, going back to Frank’s history looking for more forums instead of porn sites. There were a couple more, but the posts obviously made by Frank were short and all dealt with anxiety rather than sex. 

He hated his therapist, it turned out. He didn’t trust her or appreciate her comments on his life. She didn’t help him with anxiety beyond deep breathing exercises—coping mechanisms that didn’t help his deeper issues. 

He was trying to do a lot of self-help, looking all over for way to keep himself calm and stop himself from being so needy and dependent on others. 

_I feel like I’m going to die when he’s not with me. I know its immature and like a little kid, but I just love him so much. I can’t help it when I think he’s mad I can’t even breathe. I try and I try to tell myself he’s not mad, like maybe he’s busy at work or driving, but I get so scared. My therapist tells me its a maturity issue but I don’t mean to be immature. I just need him. I always feel like he’s going to go away even though he tells me he’s not. What do I do?_

Frank’s post on a dating and relationships forum generated so much discussion. There was less hatred directed at him and more support. A lot of the other users told him he needed to talk with a therapist to uncover the “real” reason behind his neediness and many others warned him that if he squeezed too tightly, his boyfriend would run away. 

_That’s what I’m scared of! I don’t want him to go away! I can’t have him go away and I want him to know that. He means so much to me and I’ll do anything he needs but I can’t stand the thought he’ll leave me. I know I’m too needy and that’s bad but I love him! Isn’t that how you show you love someone?_

On and on he went about how bad he was for loving Gerard so much and how badly he wished he were different. He wanted someone else to tell him he was okay—to validate that it was okay for him to be so dependent, but all he got was rejection. He was too needy. He was too dependent. It was a sign of mental illness.

He went there for support and everyone was telling him he was crazy like his mother. 

Gerard was going to have to talk to him about this… He just had to think up a way to hide that he’d been snooping first. It would be cruel to admit it, and it would be too aggressive to ask Frank about his dependency issues. He’d get scared…and he’d already made it clear he was scared of his boyfriend.

Scared to have his boyfriend too close and scared to have his boyfriend leave him.

He needed a new therapist—he needed to stop looking for answers online where people were more likely to say “you’re too immature for a relationship” than to give real advice. 

Gerard stopped letting himself read the forum posts and perused the boy’s history some more, giggling a little when he saw an explicitly terrible attempt at searching porn. The boy managed to pick a favorite site it seemed, looking at a couple videos a day from the site. 

Gerard glanced at Mikey who was texting someone on his phone, then made sure the sound was off on the laptop before clicking one of the links, wondering what it was about the site that had Frank so enthralled. 

The video Frank had been watching started with two men in jeans kissing—and kissing and kissing—then one slowly undressed the other with only a quick flash of the smaller man’s package. 

It was soft porn. Gerard skipped through to different points of the video and every minute of it was angled in a way that nothing really explicit was showing. It was obvious the two men were having sex, but it could just as well be staged. The actors could’ve been soft for the whole set and the viewer wouldn’t ever know—they never got to see anything worth seeing.

Gerard dared to click to the website’s homepage and learned quickly that the whole site was structured that way. 

Soft porn. It was all soft porn.

Even Frank’s porn was innocent. 

Gerard shook his head and went back to looking at the list of web pages in Frank’s history. 

There was a section of educational sites he’d been using for school and email, then the really surprising collection of pages—tattoos. 

Frank was looking at tattooing pages. Not just pictures of cool tattoos but tips for getting one and how to pick one. 

“Holy fuck,” Gerard whispered, his eyes going wide with intrigue. His boyfriend wanted tattoos. 

His boyfriend was going to be so fucking hot—all covered in ink, trying to make himself look tough and harsh.

Gerard bet he could get Frank to let him draw something for him. 

He could design something that would be on Frank’s skin forever.

“What’s the matter with you?” Mikey asked, trying to peer over at the laptop screen. 

Gerard snapped the computer closed and set it back on the coffee table.

“I’m going downstairs. I want to draw something.”


	68. Chapter 68

_Chapter 68_

Two days after getting beaten up and Frank still couldn’t get aroused. He tried so, so hard but nothing worked. He even tried using a toy while Gerard was in the shower, but it just didn’t work. He got so anxious he felt like he could throw up—if he couldn’t get it up, what use would Gerard have for him?

None.

If they couldn’t have sex, Frank was worth nothing to him…

“Baby, you’re so distant,” Gerard moaned, flopping down on Frank’s bed. “Did I make you mad?”

“No,” Frank said, looking up from his cell phone and fixing his eyes on his boyfriend. Gerard had been so good to him the past two days—bringing him drinks and food so he wouldn’t have to go up and down the stairs and spending a lot of time with him. Usually Gerard spent a fair amount of time at his desk, drawing or writing with his headphones on as he unwound after work. The past two days he’d sat next to Frank in his bed and drew with him—occasionally kissing the top of his head or his cheek. 

Frank loved that. He didn’t want it to go away because he’d been too anxious about letting the doctor examine him down there… It just reminded him of his mother and how cruel she’d been. He hated having those images in the back of his mind. He didn’t want the nightmares to start again…

“I made you mad,” Gerard said, sighing loudly. “What’d I do?”

“Nothing” Frank said “Really. D-Don’t…Don’t think that.”

“Then why won’t you talk to me?”

“I don’t know,” Frank muttered, looking back down at his phone. “I…I just… I don’t know.”

“Are you scared of going back to school?”

“Now that Mom called the school about Derrick and his friends,” Frank mumbled. Derrick had been one of the popular kids. Getting him suspended just meant others would come beat Frank up again to get revenge. He didn’t want beaten again. His ribs still ached, his eye was still bruised and he wanted more time before he was subjected to more pain. 

“They’re not going to touch you again,” Gerard said. Frank wished he could feel that confident, but he knew the truth. Maybe Gerard didn’t think anyone else would hurt him, but Frank knew better. Derrick was friends with Kyle…

Frank was scared of what Kyle would do if he came for revenge. He could make the video come back. Frank was terrified of that—afraid it would show up on his social media and Gerard would see. It would be horrible if Gerard ever saw that clip… It was straight up stupidity and sin.

He didn’t want his boyfriend to see him that way.

“Frankie…” 

“I’m okay, Gerard. Really. My ribs are just sore.”

“I know,” Gerard whispered, crawling up toward the head of Frank’s bed where the boy sat, propped against the headboard. He kissed Frank’s side, right overtop his broken ribs, and stared up at Frank expectantly. “You look sad…”

“Well my ribs hurt,” Frank complained, looking away—unable to handle the look in Gerard’s eyes. His boyfriend was pitying him, not understanding that the reason Frank was so sad was the reason their whole relationship was going to come to an end. He was broken… He wasn’t good enough.

“Baby…” Gerard kept kissing his ribs again and again until Frank sighed and set his phone down. “You’re so tense. You need to relax.”

“I don’t want to do sex stuff,” Frank said, daring to scowl at his boyfriend. He _hurt._ Even if he wasn’t broken, he wasn’t in the mood.

“Frank, I’m not trying to sleep with you—I’m just worried. Usually you tell me when you’re sad. Tonight, you’re not talking to me.”

Not knowing what to say, Frank just stayed silent. 

“You’re _mad_ at me,” Gerard said, sitting up and shaking his head. 

“No, I’m not. I just don’t want sex stuff.”

“I don’t either. I just want to know what’s wrong. I want you to smile.”

“My ribs hurt… I don’t feel like smiling,” Frank mumbled, sending a text to Jamia asking advice. How do you convince someone you’re not mad at them? 

“Baby…”

Frank sighed and set his phone aside on his night stand, already knowing what Jamia would say. Talk to him. Tell him what’s wrong. He leaned over and kissed Gerard on the mouth, pleased that his boyfriend didn’t try to make it any deeper. 

“I… I still can’t…get it to work,” Frank murmured, burying his face in Gerard’s shoulder, allowing his boyfriend to gently hold him. He felt so safe in Gerard’s arms—like no one could hurt him again. 

“Get what to work?” Gerard asked.

Frank moaned and pressed his face harder into Gerard’s shoulder, then moved to nuzzle his throat—hoping that would be an answer.

“What?” Gerard pushed. 

“B-Because of the kicking… It still won’t…you know.”

“Oh… Does it still hurt a lot?” Gerard pressed.

“No. It doesn’t hurt, but…I try and nothing happens.” Frank’s cheeks burned as Gerard pulled away.

“Frank, you’re probably too stressed. I know how you get. If you’re trying to get it up and you’re freaking out at the same time, it’s not gonna happen. You have to be in the mood. I promise—if it’s not hurting anymore, you’re fine. You’re just too anxious.”

“It’s hard not to be… If it doesn’t work anymore—”

“I’m not leaving you if you can’t get it up. We’ll find other things to do. I mean, come on, you can cum just from your nipples. You don’t need a hard-on to feel good.”

“But then I can’t… I like being on top, too,” Frank whispered.

“I know. I promise, there’s nothing wrong with you except stress. It’s the same thing as when I try to watch you play guitar. You get all nervous and you can’t perform.”

“I just don’t want you to leave me…”

“Frank, what’s it gonna take for you to believe me? I tell you all the time—I love you. I’m crazy about you. I’ve really never loved anyone as much as I love you. I mean that.”

Gerard was looking at him so earnestly and it just made Frank feel bad. He felt guilty that he couldn’t believe him. He wanted to—he really, really did, but it didn’t seem…real.

His whole life, everyone had hated him. His own mother couldn’t stand him. Now he had a boyfriend who professed to love him more than anything else—more than anyone else. It warmed him, but it scared him too. He worried that as soon as he believed the words, Gerard would take them all away.

“I just don’t want you to leave me,” Frank repeated.

“I’m not leaving. Frank, I want to be with you forever—for as long as you want me and…maybe a couple years longer once you realize you can do better than some pedophile artist creep.”

“Stop it,” Frank said, sending Gerard a sharp glare.

“What? I’m a twenty-three year old creep who can’t keep his hands off this beautiful little seventeen-year-old.”

“Shut up,” Frank said, blushing as his boyfriend drew nearer and started kissing his neck. 

“I guess no one would blame me if they saw you. I mean…you’re so sexy,” Gerard whispered, his lips brushing Frank’s ear and making him tremble. “Got such a tight little body…” Gerard’s hand found its way between Frank’s legs and started squeezing—kneading. 

“G-Gerard?”

“Yes?” Gerard purred before nipping the flesh of Frank’s neck. “It’s getting hard, Baby.” He started rubbing Frank a little harder through his sweat pants. “Feel that?”

Frank gasped as Gerard squeezed him, feeling himself grow harder by the second. Gerard started rubbing, then slid his hand under the waistband of Frank’s sweat pants and boxers. Frank slumped forward, resting his head on Gerard’s shoulder while his boyfriend stroked him slowly—too slowly. It was surprising how easy it was for Gerard’s touch to arouse him when his own had been futile since the attack. 

“Do you want me to blow you, Baby?” Gerard asked, his breath hot against Frank’s ear. 

“M-Mom might come downstairs,” Frank whimpered, shaking a little as Gerard stroked him faster. 

“I can always make it fast,” Gerard murmured, slipping his other hand up Frank’s shirt to start caressing one of his nipples. “Do you want me to play with these?”

“Yeah,” Frank said, unable to resist. He wanted more—he wanted to prove to Gerard that he wasn’t broke after all. They didn’t need to break up. He didn’t need to feel so worried anymore.

He took a deep breath as Gerard pushed up the hem of his shirt to expose his chest, preparing himself for what was about to come. Gerard pulled Frank’s shirt off over his head, then started kissing his neck—kissing down his neck, down his breastbone before nipping the flesh of his stomach. 

“Gerard!” Frank cried, pulling away a little. His boyfriend just laughed at him and kissed the reddened skin, slowly liking his way up to Frank’s nipple. He circled it with the tip of his tongue, then sucked it into his mouth as he brought up his hand and started pinching the other. 

Frank struggled to take a breath as his boyfriend started sucking his nipple harder. His hips rolled but were unable to get any friction, and when Gerard noticed he just started chuckling and shifted around until his knee was between Frank’s thighs—giving him something to press up against. 

Gerard continued to suckle and then would bite—sometimes gently, but more often than not he would bite to hurt and Frank couldn’t help the moans that kept spilling out. He didn’t know why that pain felt so good, but he could barely contain himself. By the time Gerard abandoned Frank’s chest and had started kissing his way down Frank’s stomach, lower and lower until he pulled Frank’s sweat pants and boxers out of the way and swallowed him down.

Frank had to struggle not to moan, longing for the privacy of their hotel where he could moan as loud as he wanted—usually earning him more affection and praise from Gerard. 

Carefully, he tangled his fingers in Gerard’s hair as the man sucked his length. He wanted to pull Gerard closer, thrust his hips harder, but didn’t want to hurt his boyfriend. He just wanted more pleasure—more intensity. 

His breaths came sharper and sharper as Gerard swirled his tongue around Frank’s tip, dipping into the slit and teasing it until Frank let out a loud cry. As soon as Frank’s composure broke, Gerard took as much of Frank’s length into his mouth as he could and swallowed around him. Frank moaned louder and louder, his body starting to tremble as Gerard bobbed his head quickly, stroking the length he couldn’t fit in his mouth. 

The fingers Frank had tangled in Gerard’s hair tightened into a fist as his orgasm struck him, holding his boyfriend in place as he came down his throat. 

As soon as he finished, Frank slumped backwards but kept his fingers in Gerard’s hair—pulling harder and harder until his boyfriend crawled over top of him.

“Okay—that hurts,” Gerard said, laughing softly as he kissed Frank’s flushed cheek. “Let go of my hair, Baby,” he pressed, grabbing Frank’s hand and making him let go. “Do you feel better now?” 

“Yeah,’ Frank whispered, wrapping his arms around Gerard’s shoulders, holding him tight so he couldn’t get away. 

“Do you believe me when I say I love you?—that I’m not leaving?” Gerard asked. His voice was a little raw and rough. Frank loved it.

“Yeah…”

“Do you?” Gerard pressed.

“Yeah,” Frank said again, snuggling down into Gerard’s chest. 

“Baby…”

“I love you,” Frank said, whining a little as Gerard pulled away. He forced Frank to lie down on the bed and cuddled up behind him, burying his face in the back of Frank’s neck. 

“I love you, too,” Gerard said, chuckling softly and snuggling closer.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank kept his head down as he walked through the school, hurrying to his class. He felt as if all eyes were on him—the kid who got three of the most popular boys in his class suspended. No one said anything to him, though, and Jamia was back so she could protect him too if anything bad started to happen. 

He hated that, though.

Why did he need someone else to protect him? Why couldn’t he just be tough?—Be like his best friend and punch back when someone took a swing at him…

Maybe his mother wouldn’t have beaten him so much if he’d slapped her back a few times…if he kicked her or punched her. But he just couldn’t do it. He’d envisioned it—fantasized about it, dreamed that one day he’d be able to beat her and make her _stop._ But he couldn’t do it. 

He was too weak. He was just…pathetic.

In class, Frank sat still with his head down, scribbling down random words instead of taking notes. In math, his teacher called him to the board to work out a problem, but knowing he would never be able to solve it—especially not with an audience—Frank pretended he couldn’t hear his teacher. He just stared at his desk and ignored it when his teacher wrote him a demerit and slid it onto the page in front of him. 

The other kids started laughing at him and Frank did his best to ignore them in the few brief moments it took for the teacher to regain control of the class. He would have to ask Donna to sign the white card and the thought made his stomach churn. He could always attempt to forge her signature, but if he got caught, the school would call her and everything would just be worse. 

He would go from being Donna’s good child to the worst.

Having his ribs broken got him out of gym class and he was assigned to an additional study hall period instead. Like in the rest of his classes, Frank sat and wrote—trying to make songs but unable to get the lyrics to flow right. The things he wanted to say just came out wrong—too blatant or too poetic, nothing in between.

It was hard to focus, though, when the boy sitting at the desk in the row behind him kept kicking his seat. 

It was worse that that boy was Kyle, and that he was whispering Frank’s name over and over, trying to get his attention.

Frank couldn’t help how anxious it made him. He was tired and his ribs hurt, and it was so fucking aggravating to hear his name over and over as his chair was kicked.

“Frank.” Kick. “Frank…” Kick. Kick. Kick. “Psst. Frankie.” Kick. “Fraaaank.” Kick. Kick. Kick.

Frank groaned and raised his hand, attracting the attention of the study hall monitor. 

“Yes?”

“Can I go to the restroom?” Frank asked. 

_“May_ you go use the restroom?” The monitor stressed. 

Frank sighed and fought to keep from rolling his eyes. 

“May I go?” He asked again.

“Yes. You may. Make it quick.”

Frank stood up quickly and hurried out of the room, stuffing the notebook paper he’d brought with him into his pocket along with his pencil. He had no intention to come back to the room. None at all.

He would rather receive another demerit for the day than put up with Kyle. To think that he was going to have to sit in that room with Kyle behind him every day until his ribs healed was torture. He didn’t want to, but there was nowhere else for him to hide.

Frank went into the bathroom and locked himself in the cleaner of the four stalls. He leaned against the cool, metal wall and stared up at the ceiling which was littered with pen marks and poorly painted-over, crude drawings. 

He felt trapped—on edge. He didn’t know why Kyle wanted his attention so bad and he didn’t want to know. He didn’t want that boy trying to get to him every day in study hall, and he didn’t want to have to watch his back in fear of an attack from Kyle or his friends. 

Minutes ticked by too quickly for him as he started sending texts to Gerard who didn’t answer. He was at work and was more reluctant to text back when he knew Frank was in school after the panic attack he’d gotten the time he hadn’t answered. 

There were ten minutes left of his class period when he heard someone else come into the bathroom, looking for a place to kill time more likely than not. 

“Frankie… I know you’re in here.”

Frank eyes went wide as he recognized Kyle’s voice. Of course, the study hall monitor had sent someone to go find him since he hadn’t returned, and the only student who offered to go was Kyle. Kyle who was desperate to have Frank alone. 

“I can see your shoes. I know you’re in there.”

Frank sighed and unlocked the stall door, knowing he couldn’t avoid him. If he didn’t go back to the room, Kyle would just go back and tell the teacher—or the principal. Then they’d call Donna and he’d be in even more trouble than he already had in store after earning the demerit in math class. 

“I don’t see why you’re hiding from me. I thought we had a good time the last time we hung out.” Kyle sneered at him and Frank just glared, trying to hide his panic as the other boy started coming toward him. 

“Leave me alone,” Frank said.

“What?” Kyle asked, pretending he didn’t hear.

“Leave me _alone!”_ Frank snapped, glaring more fiercely. Kyle wasn’t daunted. He was taller and athletic—he could take Frank down in a matter of seconds if he wanted to. 

“Aw, Frankie, I thought you liked me,” Kyle said, daring to come closer and trying to put his hand on Frank’s face.

Frank swatted his hand away and backed up further, his back hitting the stone wall. He was trapped between another stall and the row of sinks, Kyle blocking his only way out until the bell rang. When classes let out, someone would have to come in and interrupt…

But it would probably be one of Kyle’s friends, wouldn’t it? That was Frank’s luck…

“What’s the matter? Are you scared?” He drew closer, standing almost chest-to-chest with Frank, asserting his dominance while all Frank could do was moan in discomfort. “Not so tough like your little dyke girlfriend, huh?”

“Leave her out of this,” Frank muttered, trying to find the strength to sound fierce. His entire body was starting to grow hot—burning—as rage ate away at him. He didn’t like being pinned this way. He didn’t like being inferior, being scared, being pushed around by anyone and everyone. His breathing started becoming heavier and heavier, his breaths loud and sharp.

“Aw, are you _crying,_ Iero? Is the baby gonna cry?” Kyle laughed—this cruel, sneering giggle—and put his hand on Frank’s face again, trying to make Frank look up at him. That was all it took. 

Frank snapped. 

He let out a loud growl and shoved Kyle as hard as he could, then stepped forward and pushed him again.

“The fuck!?” Kyle called out, stumbling backwards. He was taken by surprise, making it easier for Frank to push him a third time, causing the jock to lose his footing and fall backwards onto the floor.

“Don’t ever fucking touch me!” Frank screamed, towering over the other boy a moment before dropping down onto him and throwing punch after punch. He didn’t have much strength and he knew that, but he was heavy and when he sank down onto Kyle’s chest he was easily able to keep the boy pinned. 

“Get off!” Kyle shouted, trying to shove Frank away, then trying to block his weak punches. 

Frank wasn’t able to get much speed behind his fists, but as the rage took over, that hardly mattered. He could put all of his weight into his arm as he brought his fist down over and over onto Kyle’s chest—then his face. 

His hand started hurting, but Kyle’s surprised yells and screams of pain pleased him—it fueled his anger until all he saw was red. 

Red on his hands, red on Kyle’s face, red dripping down onto the floor.

The blood reminded him of his mother—how cruel she was, how cruel his grandmother was, how mean everyone around him ever was.

It wasn’t just Kyle he was beating, it was all of his demons—every last one. And he was winning. He was showing them who was boss.


	69. Chapter 69

_Chapter 69_

Frank didn’t even realize he was yelling until he felt fingers dig painfully into his shoulders and start yanking him backwards. He went to scream, but his voice only grew louder until his lungs hurt as he was torn away from Kyle—Kyle who was crying…and bleeding.

It filled Frank with so much pride when he saw all the red covering the other boy’s face, covering the filthy tile floor. There were two teeth lying next to Kyle’s head…

He’d never touch Frank again after this. Not ever. Frank bet Kyle was sorry they’d ever crossed paths—sorry for bullying him, sorry for ever laying eyes on him. 

“What is the matter with you!?” Someone yelled before all of the voices swirling around them turned to Kyle—oh, poor Kyle. Oh, someone needed to call an ambulance! _Poor_ Kyle!

“Get him out of here!”

Frank was pushed into the hallway, then dragged by the hood of his sweater to the office. As he was pulled along, he looked down at his aching, stinging knuckles. His skin was split and bleeding, his blood mixing with Kyle’s. The longer he stared at it, the less proud he began to feel.

He’d been bad, hadn’t he?

Yes, he’d shown Kyle his place. Yes, he’d taught Kyle a lesson, but now they were going to call Donna and he would be suspended—or expelled. 

Or put in jail. 

He started shaking as he came down from his rage, terrified and anxious of what Donna would say when she came—if she came instead of a police officer. He didn’t want arrested—he didn’t want to go to jail. Bad things would happen to him there. 

“I-I’m sorry,” Frank whimpered as he was pushed into the principal’s office.

“Well! What happened here?” The principal asked, his eyes going wide as he looked over Frank.

“Caught him in the bathroom beating up another student.”

_“Frank?”_ The principal asked, looking so shocked by Frank’s behavior that it filled the boy with even more shame. 

“H-He—” Frank stammered, his mouth running dry and his throat clenching up as tears struck him. He needed to think of something—something to keep him out of jail, something to keep Donna from getting mad at him and sending him away to protect herself and her family from him. “H-He t-tried to grab me,” Frank choked out. “I’m so sorry—he t-tried to push m-me into the st-stall and I snapped.”

“What did he do?” the principal asked, looking at the teacher who’d brought Frank into his office instead of the boy. 

“Found him in the bathroom beating up another student. He knocked the boy’s teeth out.”

“Is this true?” The principal asked, looking at Frank with disappointment. 

“H-He w-was going to p-push me in the stall,” Frank whimpered. 

“So you knocked out his teeth?” The teacher asked, not understanding what Frank was trying to imply. 

“I’m sorry,” Frank cried, choking on a sob. “H-He was going to make me do the bad thing again.” He didn’t know why the words came, or came so easily, but once he started the lie, the principal and the teacher both changed their attitudes with him. 

“He was going to make you do what?” The principal asked. 

“The bad thing,” Frank whispered.

“This is ridiculous. Nothing he did gave you permission to knock his teeth out!”

“I-I didn’t mean to,” Frank said. “I _told_ you. He tried to push me into the stall and I-I lost it.”

The principal looked from Frank to the teacher, then got up from his desk and put a hand on Frank’s shoulder.

“Come take a seat, Frank. We’ll talk about this. Mr. Grady, why don’t you go have Mrs. Christy call Frank’s mother for me.”

“M-Momma?” Frank stammered, knowing the man probably meant Donna but his stomach still tightened with fear. He remembered the awful things his mother did to him whenever she was called to the school over him, and now he was afraid Donna would react the same. 

“We have to call Mrs. Way, Frank. You can’t stay in the school if you’re beating up other students,” the principal said.

“I only hi-hit him because he t-tried to push me in the stall!” Frank cried, trying to resist as the principal guided him to a chair and pushed on his shoulder to get him to sit down. “H-He—Sir, please! H-he’s the one wh-who made that video last year—he made me do it then and he was going to do it again now! Please! _Please_ don’t call my mom!”

“Frank, we have to call Mrs. Way. Now, do you want to explain to me what happened? Let’s get your side of the story. You were supposed to be in study hall—why did you leave?”

“Because K-Kyle kept kicking the back of my chair,” Frank cried. “He was trying to get my attention and I didn’t want to talk to him. I went to the b-bathroom to get away from him and th-that’s where he trapped me.”

“What did you think he was going to do, Frank?”

“H-He was trying t-to get me in the stall. I t-told you—he made me make that video last year. H-He was going to make me do it again.”

“You’re saying Kyle…?” He paused, waiting for Frank to give him a last name.

“Brenner,” Frank whimpered.

“Kyle _Brenner?”_ The principal asked, eyes going a little wide. Kyle was popular. Kyle was a city councilman’s son. 

“Yeah… I-I still have the letter he gave me last year… He wanted me to meet him, then he made me…made me do the bad thing,” Frank whispered. 

“You’re saying Kyle Brenner is the one in the video with you last fall?”

“Y-Yeah… I didn’t say anything b-because he s-said his friends would beat me up,” Frank lied. It was becoming easier and easier. It made sense, right? He’d protected Kyle before in hopes that the boy had nothing to do with the video getting out, but now he could make it look like he hid his identity out of fear. “I knew what would happen in the bathroom… I have a g-girlfriend now. I-I don’t want… I don’t want Kyle to make me do those things with him.”

“So…what you’re telling me is Kyle tried to…have sex with you in the bathroom?—And that’s why you hit him?”

“He had me backed into the wall and tried to…to put his hand down my jeans. I…I’m sorry. I got scared and just started hitting him. I wanted him to leave me alone,” Frank cried, tears rolling down his cheeks as he made himself think of how bad things had gotten for him because of that video. Because of Kyle, he’d been publicly humiliated, beaten, burned by his mother, tortured… Kyle deserved to have his teeth knocked out.

“Okay, Frank. Let me just ask you one last thing—just to clarify. You…you’re saying you thought Kyle was going to…sexually assault you in the bathroom?—he was going to force you to—”

“To do the bad thing,” Frank said.

“The bad thing?”

“Sex things,” Frank whispered, hanging his head and staring down at his lap—at his bloodied knuckles and blood stained sleeves. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Donna shook her head as she looked at the blood stains on Frank’s sweater. She wanted to avoid having to throw the garment away, but couldn’t think of anything that would get the blood out without damaging the colors. She sighed and dipped the hoodie back into the soapy water in the kitchen sink and started scrubbing. 

Of all her boys, she never imagined Frank would be one she’d have threatened with expulsion from school. He’d assaulted another student—put him in the hospital—and the only reason Frank wasn’t being charged with anything _yet_ was because he’d told the principal Kyle had tried to assault him. _Rape_ him. 

Donna already had plans of what she’d say to that other boy’s parents if they called making threats. If they pressed charges on Frank, she’d sue them for everything they had. She’d been told about the video of Frank that had been circulated through the school and she was going to use it if she had to. No one was taking her sweet boy away from her—not without a fight anyway. 

It seemed so unlike Frank to attack another student so viciously. He had to have been provoked. 

Fortunately for her, the principal seemed to agree. Frank was not a troublemaker, he’d said, and the boy seemed so traumatized when he was pulled into the office after the fight—after he told his story, he started going into shock. Even the school counselor couldn’t soothe him. 

Though Donna didn’t think stuffing his pockets full of rape crisis and rape recovery pamphlets was exactly helpful. Frank had given all of the papers to Donna—then promptly ran down to his room to wait for Gerard. 

Mikey followed him, still in the dark about most of what had happened. Donna had pulled him out of school as well, not wanting other students or teachers to bombard him with questions. Frank didn’t want to talk to Mikey about what happened though, it seemed. He dodged the question and every now and then Donna could hear the boy raise his voice downstairs. 

Donna just couldn’t comprehend it. 

How could _Frank_ knock another boy’s teeth out? Even if he’d been cornered and scared. He’d _never_ lashed out violently before. Never… 

She couldn’t believe it.

He was a good kid, not a bully. Not a monster. No…

Donna had been working at getting the blood out of Frank’s sleeves for thirty minutes when the door burst open and Gerard hurried in. 

“Where is he?” he asked, panting and looking around. He had his coat in his arms and his scarf wound haphazardly around his neck—looking frantic and nervous.

“In his room. He’s fine. He doesn’t have a scratch on him except his knuckles.” She didn’t understand why the words made Gerard scowl at her before he hurried down the stairs. There was an argument, then Mikey was sent upstairs shaking his head. “What was that about?” Donna asked.

“Gerard wants me to give his boyfriend ‘some room,’” Mikey spat. 

“Did Frank say anything to you about what happened?”

“He said something about Kyle grabbing his junk. I don’t know. He’s acting weird.”

“He’s probably scared, Michael,” Donna said.

“I know him scared, Mom. He’s not scared—he’s _lying._ I don’t know what set him off, but he’s full of it when he said Kyle was trying to grab him in the bathroom. Kyle’s not going to do something like that in the bathroom where anyone could walk in.” Without saying any more, Mikey stormed upstairs and slammed his bedroom door.

( ) ( ) ( )

When Gerard made it downstairs, Frank was lying on his bed petting Zoe—looking so small and frightened. Gerard hurried to his side and sat down beside him, tossing his coat down to the floor—not bothering to unwind his scarf.

“Are you okay, Baby? Do your ribs hurt at all?” He started stroking Frank’s hair, wanting so badly to kiss the boy but afraid the gesture might scare him. He didn’t know what to think when his mother called him to say Frank had been in another fight, then it only got worse when Frank texted him the details.

That punk Kyle had laid his hands on Frank—molested him and tried to take things further. Thank God Frank had attacked him. Thank God his baby had stood up for himself before it was too late. 

Gerard couldn’t even imagine what would’ve happened if that boy forced himself on Frank. Something that awful would set Frank back so far in his recovery…so far.

“Baby?” Gerard stroked his hair a little more as the boy laid there and stared at him.

“You came home early,” Frank whispered.

“I was worried about you—of course I came home. I left as soon as I could.”

“You were worried?” Frank asked, staring up at him with those big eyes—looking scared.

“Of course! That kid tried to…to hurt you,” Gerard said, afraid to say molested or raped. He didn’t want to trigger the boy or make him remember the details of what had happened. 

“I knocked his teeth out,” Frank whispered. “Three of them.”

“Good—the motherfucker deserved it!” Gerard said, daring to lean down for a kiss. Frank kissed him back eagerly, even sitting up as Gerard tried to pull back so their lips didn’t stop touching. Gerard wrapped his arms protectively around Frank’s shoulders and held him tight.

It was hard at first with Zoe between them, but their movements nearly squished her so she jumped up from the mattress and hurried upstairs.

“I think I’m going to get expelled,” Frank whimpered, burying his face in Gerard’s chest. 

“No—No, they’re not going to expel you.”

“I knocked his teeth out,” Frank said, voice shaking.

“He tried to rape you! You were defending yourself. You did get carried away, but no one can blame you, Frank. I’m not going to let them expel you.”

“What if I go to jail?” Frank asked, sniffing and hugging Gerard tight.

“We won’t let that happen. Isn’t Kyle that shithead who sent that video of you around the school?”

“Yeah…”

“Then if he presses charges on you for assault, we’ll….we’ll tell his family we’re going to press charges on Kyle for making that video. That’s child porn—it’s a _federal_ crime. No one is putting you in jail. You’re going to stay right here. Right here with me, Baby.”

Gerard laid down, pulling Frank with him and cradling him against his chest. 

“It’s going to be okay, Frankie. I promise. I’ll keep you safe. No one’s going to hurt you, okay?”

“I think Mom’s mad at me…”

“No—she’s not. I promise, Baby. I swear she’s not mad.” Gerard kissed the top of his head and smiled as the boy started playing with his scarf, moving it around until one end was wrapped around his arm. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank felt guilty, but that shame was nearly overshadowed by the amount of pleasure he was getting from all the extra attention. He’d gone from a nearly psychotic rage to beating another student who truthfully didn’t deserve all that he’d gotten—then he went from being a perpetrator to a victim. As soon as he’d told everyone that Kyle had tried doing what his mother used to claim all men did—force themselves on weaker beings—the teachers, the principal, _everyone_ started to pity him and feel sorry for him, not Kyle. 

And now Gerard was being so kind and gentle. He was kissing him and not even trying to touch him anywhere else. There were so many soft touches, even at dinner time. Gerard would put a hand on his shoulder or rub his back. 

After Frank’s shower, when it was time for bed, Gerard wrapped him up in his arms and held him so close under the blankets. He would say sweet things and nuzzle him, tell him he was safe and that no one would hurt him again. 

“I love you so much, Baby.”

“I love you too,” Frank said, snuggling back against Gerard’s chest. 

“Is it okay that I’m sleeping here? If you want space—”

“I don’t want you to go,” Frank said quickly, rolling over so he could latch on to Gerard’s night shirt. His fingers still hurt and his knuckles split open again in the shower. He’d cut them on Kyle’s teeth… 

“Okay. I’ll sleep here. Don’t worry. I won’t go anywhere,” Gerard said, kissing Frank’s forehead. “I just want you to feel safe. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” 

“You make me feel safe,” Frank whispered. 

“Good—I want you to know you’re safe with me. I won’t hurt you.” Gerard snuggled him closer and kissed his forehead until Frank tilted his head to allow a kiss on the lips. 

“Will you stay home with me tomorrow?” Frank asked.

“I… Baby, I can’t miss too much work.”

“But I need you,” Frank whispered. 

“Okay,” Gerard said, not even arguing any further. “I’ll stay with you. I just want you happy, Baby. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

Frank snuggled closer and closed his eyes. He liked this—having all of his neediness met rather than reprimanded. If Gerard knew the truth—if Gerard knew Frank had just gotten mad at Kyle for touching his face and teasing him—there would be no kisses. There would be no snuggling and comforting. He would be punished, maybe even jailed. Not cuddled. Not kept warm under the blankets.


	70. Chapter 70

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably some typos in this chapter because I'm really sick but I wanted to update @_@

_Chapter 70_

When Gerard woke up early the next morning, Frank lay next to him shaking—trembling—and sniffling to himself. The boy was curled up in a tiny ball with as much space between himself and Gerard as the tiny bed would allow.

“Baby?” Gerard asked, sitting up slowly and reaching out to stroke Frank’s back. His boyfriend cried out and stiffened, the immediately rolled over and snuggled himself into Gerard’s chest—still shivering despite the blankets wrapped around him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nightmares,” Frank whimpered, pressing his head under Gerard’s chin.

“Why were you all the way on the edge of the bed? You could’ve woken me up, Baby. You know I don’t mind,” Gerard said, keeping his voice as gentle as possible despite the sleepiness which turned his voice gravelly. 

“I didn’t want to bug you,” Frank said, sobbing softly as he clenched Gerard’s sleep shirt in his fist.

“Frank, it’s not going to bother me if you need me. I love you. I want to make sure you’re okay. You can wake me up. That’s why I sleep here with you—so I’m here if you need me, Baby.”

Frank snuggled closer, letting Gerard pull him onto his chest so he could stroke the boy’s hair. 

“Was it a nightmare about Kyle?” Gerard asked, knowing it could trigger his boyfriend but desperate to know any detail he could in order to better comfort him. 

“Kind of,” Frank whimpered. “Mostly it was Momma… Sh-she was hitting me and calling me names. And you were there…”

“Me?” Gerard asked.

“Yeah… Watching Momma.”

“You should know by now, if someone’s ever hurting you, I’m not gonna stand there. I’m gonna knock a motherfucker out,” Gerard said, jostling Frank’s shoulder a little in an attempt to cheer him up. 

“I know,” Frank whispered, wrapping his arms around Gerard’s torso and holding him tightly. Gerard kissed the top of his head and started rubbing Frank’s back. 

“Nobody’s going to hurt you again. I promise. Your mom can’t get you and I won’t let that punk lay his hands on you again.”

“What if he sues us?” Frank asked, his voice shaking terribly.

“Frank, he tried to rape you. You had a right to beat him up—I’m _glad_ you beat him up. That asshole…Christ, he could’ve hurt you so bad. I’m so glad you stopped him. I’m so proud of you,” Gerard whispered, snuggling Frank as close as he could. 

“Wh-what if…what if he wasn’t trying to rape me?” Frank asked.

“Frank, he forced his hand into your jeans—what do you think he was going to do next? Something _nice?_ ”

“No,” Frank whimpered, sobbing again. Gerard felt bad for upsetting him, but he didn’t want Frank to try to justify that other boy’s behavior. He couldn’t have Frank thinking he was the one who had done something wrong. “Gerard?”

“Yes, Baby?” Gerard whispered, kissing the top of Frank’s head and holding him close. 

“What if…what if I lied?” Frank stammered, his voice becoming more choked as he wept. 

“About what?” Gerard asked, something cold dropping into the pit of his stomach. His mind started racing backwards, trying to think of any inconsistency in Frank’s stories. “Th-the video? Is Kyle not—”

“H-he made the video,” Frank cried, “b-but in the bathroom, he…he didn’t…” Frank started crying hard—wailing even as he clutched onto Gerard’s chest. “He had me against the wall. I didn’t know what he was going to do to me, b-but I thought he would… I thought he’d try to get me and I snapped. I-I lost it. I just started punching him, Gerard, and I c-couldn’t stop.”

“Wait—Wait, he… You _lied_ about him trying to rape you? You made that _whole thing up!?_ ” Gerard sat up, forcing Frank up with him as he pushed the boy off his chest. 

He _lied?_ He laid in bed crying all night, demanding kisses and comfort and asking Gerard to stay _home from work_ over a lie? Gerard spent the whole night tormented, anxiety gnawing away at him—pity for his boyfriend overwhelming him—for nothing?!

“I-I’m sorry,” Frank whimpered, trying to clutch onto Gerard’s nightshirt—still wanting comfort as though he’d done nothing wrong. Gerard brushed his hands away and got up from the bed, shaking when the cold air struck his legs. 

“You lied about him trying to molest you?” Gerard repeated.

“I-I didn’t want in trouble,” Frank stammered. 

“Well now you’re in trouble!” Gerard snapped. “We told people he tried to molest you—tried to _rape_ you! If he didn’t, then that’s slander, Frank! Jesus Christ, you can’t just say whatever comes into your head when you want out of trouble! What the hell did he do to make you knock his teeth out?”

“H-He kept t-touching my face,” Frank whimpered, reaching for Gerard in the dark. “P-Please don’t be mad. He would’ve beaten me up if I didn’t—”

“I’m not mad that you beat him up—I’m mad that you lied to me! To Mom!—Everybody! You let me believe someone tried to rape you. Do you even know how much that _hurt_ me?”

In the dark, Gerard couldn’t make out Frank’s facial expression, but the boy’s posture drooped as he started sobbing—trying to blubber out more apologies and explanations that Gerard didn’t want to hear.

He needed to think about this—about what he needed to do. If he told everyone Frank lied, he would get expelled. This wasn’t a fist fight gone wrong—this wasn’t an accident. Frank had gotten mad and knocked the boy’s teeth out without even being hurt first. He could be expelled—he could be charged and prosecuted.

He couldn’t risk having Frank go to jail. He couldn’t risk the boy being taken from him. He was messed up—he was troubled. He was a manipulative little shit, but he couldn’t help himself. He used to live in terror, any and every mistake reprimanded with unspeakable and abuse and neglect.

Of course he was going to panic. Of course he’d try to lie his way out of trouble—but why did he have to lie to Gerard? Why did he have to act so broken?—Why did he have to pretend that he was the victim when he wasn’t?

It just led Gerard to wonder what else the boy had lied to him about.

Frank kept whining at him, trying to grab him and cling to him even as Gerard tried to move toward the stairs to get away from the situation—get some space and room to think. 

“Stop it,” Gerard said as Frank continued to cling to him—trying to hug him.

“Gerard, please don’t be mad at me,” Frank sobbed, clutching onto him. Gerard tried and tried to get the boy’s fingers to let go of his nightshirt, but Frank resisted him—getting louder and louder in his protests and pleadings. “I’m sorry! I really am. Don’t be mad—please don’t be mad. I didn’t _mean_ to!” 

On and on he cried, grasping at Gerard—trying to get hugs from Gerard who didn’t want them. Not right now.

“Stop it, Frank. Just knock it off,” Gerard said, trying even harder to push Frank back from him. He was starting to feel claustrophobic, his anxiety levels climbing higher and higher as Frank whimpered and cried for his forgiveness. “Frank—Frank, back off a minute,” Gerard pressed, squeezing Frank’s hands a little harder as he tried to pull them off his nightshirt. 

“I-I just don’t want you mad! I didn’t mean to lie to anybody—I just didn’t want in trouble. I don’t want you and Mom mad at me. I didn’t mean to mess up! I didn’t!” He was crying so hard and showing no signs of stopping. He wasn’t going to stop. No matter what Gerard said, Frank wasn’t going to stop. He just kept getting closer and closer, trying to get closer and closer, clinging to Gerard tighter and tighter and tighter.

“Frank, cut it out!” Gerard snapped, pushing on Frank’s hands even as the boy resisted, stretching out of the front of Gerard’s t-shirt. “Stop it!”

“G-Gerard—”

“Cut it out, Frank!” Gerard yelled, stumbling backwards against the steps. That was the last straw. He couldn’t take it anymore. Frank was so loud, so frantic and irrational, that Gerard just couldn’t take it. He couldn’t get an inch of space between them. When pushing and tugging on the boy’s hands didn’t make him let go, Gerard’s instincts commanded him on what to do next. 

He didn’t even realize what he’d let happen at first—the loud crack sounded so distant, but the sharp sting in Gerard’s palm was immediate. Frank’s pleading and crying abruptly stopped and his hands left Gerard’s shirt, one hand going up to his cheek—the cheek Gerard had slapped, _hard._

“Shit,” Gerard whispered, biting his lip as he stared in shock and Frank who was sniffling for an entirely different reason than before. “F-Frank, I… You can’t grab on me like that; it make me…anxious. Are you okay?” 

Frank was still clutching his cheek, staring at the wall and whimpering to himself, his other arm wrapped around his chest protectively. 

“Baby?” Gerard chewed his bottom lip anxiously. He’d just wanted to make Frank stop closing in on him, stop screaming and crying for him. He just needed a moment to _think._ He hadn’t meant to hurt him. He didn’t mean to mistreat him—he didn’t mean to act like Frank’s mother.

How many times had Frank told him about his mother hitting him when he tried to get comfort or affection? Gerard didn’t want to take her place. He didn’t want to make Frank afraid of him, but that was all he succeeded in doing.

When he reached for Frank, the boy backed away and cowered. He didn’t say anything, just scurried back to his bed and got under the covers, hiding his head with the blankets. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank refused to get out of his bed for anything, not even the social workers when they came to the house to talk to him. Gerard brought Zoe downstairs after he’d smacked him, but even she couldn’t comfort him—no matter how passionately she lapped at his tears. 

He knew he was stressing Gerard out, but he couldn’t stop panicking. He was scared that if Gerard went upstairs, he’d tell Donna the truth and Frank would lose everything—his boyfriend, his new mother’s love, his place to stay… If they told everyone he’d lied, he would be expelled. Don would be furious, Donna would be disappointed… Frank would have no choice but to kill himself and he really didn’t want to face that pain again. He was terrified to have Gerard leave him so he’d resorted to the only thing he thought might work—begging. Pleading. Showing how sincerely he regretted lying…

Only Gerard hadn’t cared. Gerard hit him. He slapped him so hard Frank’s ear had started ringing.

Never in his life would he have imagined Gerard capable of doing something so horrible, but deep down he knew that he deserved it. Had he not been so foolish, Gerard never would’ve lost his temper. 

He just kept playing it over and over in his mind, reviewing every last detail of how stupid he’d been, how immature, how undesirable. He wasn’t worthy of a boyfriend. He wasn’t worthy of a family or love or comfort. 

Maybe he did deserve prison. Maybe he did deserve to be locked in with all the cruel men his mother warned him about. Maybe…if he lied about a rape, he deserved to have it happen in cold cells, night after night.

Frank cried the entire time the social workers tried speaking with him. He confessed what he could—about Kyle being the one in the video, being afraid that Kyle was going to try to assault him in the bathroom, but left out the lies he’d told the school and his foster family. He said nothing about Kyle putting a hand down the front of his jeans or pushing him toward the stall. He just whimpered when the social workers pressed for more details and they eventually let him be. 

After they left, Donna brought him down a cup of herbal tea and a sandwich, and forced Frank to sit up to eat at least a few bites. She kept murmuring words of comfort to him, stroking his shoulder and telling him he’d be alright.

She didn’t know he’d lied. She didn’t know he was undeserving of her kindness…

She didn’t know Gerard had slapped him. 

After he ate a little bit of the sandwich and had taken several sips of tea, Donna went back upstairs and Gerard took her place. He had two paper cups in his hands—coffees from the café in town that he frequented when things at home got tense—and crept over to Frank’s bed.

“You… You probably don’t want your latte if you’ve got tea, do you?” He said, his voice soft. He sounded disappointed and also nervous. 

“Why did you buy me a latte?” Frank asked, sniffing as he peeled back his blankets a little. 

He was afraid to show any anger or hostility toward Gerard over being struck. He knew he deserved it—knew he deserved even worse—and even if he hadn’t wanted anyone to treat him the way his mother used to, he wouldn’t protest. He’d been disobedient… Disobedience earned punishment and he was lucky Gerard just smacked him and didn’t dump him like the worthless trash he was…

“Because I thought… I…” Gerard set one of the cups down on Frank’s nightstand, then sat on the bed beside Frank who stiffened. He wasn’t afraid of Gerard, but he was wary now. It was nearly the same sort of anxiety he felt when his mother would sit near him on the couch at home. She only sat beside him when she wanted to read scripture. 

Gerard didn’t want to read the Bible, though…he wanted to discuss what happened and that made Frank’s heart start pounding. 

“Frank, I had no right to hit you. I… What I did was _very_ wrong, and you didn’t deserve that. Um…I can’t even apologize enough. Telling you I’m sorry isn’t ever going to make up for it.”

“It’s okay,” Frank said quietly. 

“No—Baby, no it’s not. You shouldn’t get _hit_ by the people who are supposed to protect you. It’s not right.” Gerard shook his head and stared down at the cup in his hands before lifting it to his mouth and taking a sip. “I…I can’t believe I hit you. I never meant to hit you—I _love_ you. It’s… It’s not okay that I slapped you. I’m sorry. I… I can’t even say it enough.”

Frank stared at him, chewing his lip, and then glanced over at the latte Gerard had set on the nightstand for him. He reached for it and then held the cup close to his chest. Gerard’s lips twitched with a faint smile, relieved that Frank accepted his offering, 

“I’m sorry I was bothering you,” Frank whispered, looking at Gerard as he took a small sip of the latte. It was lukewarm, but had a strong taste of hazelnut to make it pleasant. 

“Frank, you were a panic attack. I understand that. You weren’t _bothering_ me, I was just…freaking out. It was a lot to handle, but you didn’t do anything wrong trying to talk to me. I mean…it was bad that you _lied_ and about _rape_ of all things, but I get that you were scared. You didn’t deserve to get hit. You never deserve to get by someone.”

“I shouldn’t have gotten in your face though,” Frank murmured.

“No, but I shouldn’t have hit you. No one should be hitting you. I don’t feel… I don’t feel very good about it at all. I don’t want you to think of me that way,” Gerard said, taking another drink from his cup. “You mean the world to me and hitting you…it doesn’t show that. I’m so sorry, Frank.”

Gerard looked at him again, sad yet hopeful.

Frank scooted a little closer to him and leaned his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder, relieved when Gerard didn’t push him away. 

“We…we’ve gotta talk more later tonight before bed,” Gerard said quietly, tilting his head to lean against Frank’s.

They had to talk more about Frank and how it wasn’t okay to lie, Frank presumed. 

“I just want…I want you to know I’m sorry and that it’ll never happen again,” Gerard said, kissing Frank’s temple. “If it does…then there’s something fuckin’ wrong with me and I don’t deserve to have you.”

The prospect of having Gerard leave him scared Frank more than the risk of being struck again. It was wrong, he knew, but he loved Gerard so much. His self-image, his self-worth, all of it came from how Gerard viewed him. He didn’t want hit anymore and part of him was angry that Gerard would even dare, but he loved his boyfriend. He still felt honored that Gerard loved him and wanted him, even if he was a liar—even if he didn’t deserve affection at all.


	71. Chapter 71

_Chapter 71_

Gerard didn’t know what to do with Frank anymore. He really didn’t. He was suspended from school for a week for the fighting and the administrators were still deciding what to do with Kyle. There were rumors of him being expelled, Mikey told them, and also a lot of serious discussion that he was going to transfer to get away from all the drama. Frank was counting on the latter—hoping this whole mess would just _go away._

He’d caused so much trouble for the family, especially after he refused to go up to Mikey’s room—the room that was supposed to be his as far as the social workers were concerned—when his caseworker came to see them the first time after the fight. They wondered why he was hiding in Mikey’s room—and why he looked so content in Mikey’s bed. They wondered why Gerard’s things were all still there and began questioning if Gerard ever really moved out, though Gerard couldn’t see how his presence in the house even mattered. 

After a week though, the questioning stopped. Frank was still seen as the victim by everyone but Gerard and Mikey who knew better. The boy had gotten away with his lies.

He was still nervous around Gerard about it, as if he were afraid the lie would make Gerard stop loving him. Every day, many times a day, Frank would ask Gerard if he still loved him—if he still wanted to be with him. He would reassure Gerard that it was okay to hate him, that he’d understand if his boyfriend didn’t like him anymore.

Gerard didn’t know what to do. He still loved Frank and wanted to be with him. Frank was perfect for him—the boyfriend Gerard had always dreamed of (though a little more damaged than he’d ever anticipated)—and he didn’t want to lose him. 

He didn’t want to lose him…

So when Frank came to him for the first time in days and sat in his lap at his desk, Gerard let him. He wrapped his arms around the boy and held him close, then forced a smile when Frank straddled his hips. 

He didn’t want sex, but he couldn’t say no. Frank would get anxious, he’d start begging for the love he already had. He’d get that sad look in his eyes and would start with the self-hatred again. 

Gerard couldn’t stand to watch that, so he put his hands on Frank’s hips and started rubbing them as Frank scooted forward in is lap until their chests were touching. He was hugging Gerard around his shoulders and would alternate between getting kisses on the mouth and nuzzling Gerard’s neck. 

“You’re so perfect,” Gerard whispered, hugging Frank tight.

“Love you,” Frank said, voice a little strained from how tightly Gerard held him. He liked that closeness, even if it hurt him. Being squished, it just helped him feel more secure. 

Gerard moved to kiss Frank’s neck, trying to find delight in the sharp breaths Frank took or the way he trembled with need.

“Do you want to get in bed?” Gerard asked, his lips pressed to Frank’s throat. The vibration of his voice made Frank moan a little, then the boy leaned back and nodded his head. “Then you have to get up, Baby,” Gerard added, patting Frank’s back a little. 

Frank sighed, obviously not wanting to move even if he did want more. 

“I’m not strong enough to carry you, Frankie. You have to get up. Come on.” Gerard started trying to stand and Frank finally stood up on his own. He hurried over to the bed and laid down on his back, his knees bent and his legs spread expectantly. Gerard stood by the bed a moment, looking him over, and smiled before turning off the overhead light. His desk lamp was still on and radiated a warm, yellow glow. 

Gerard slowly crawled onto the bed, climbing between Frank’s legs and leaning down to capture his lips in a kiss. Frank’s bottom lip was so full—so lush—and once he had it in his mouth, Gerard didn’t want to let go. It was easier to forget about the deception when they were together like this. Part of him was afraid that Frank’s lying would start to extend into their relationship, but when they were alone together—especially in bed at night—he was always reminded of how completely devoted to him Frank was. 

Frank wasn’t going to start lying to him or deceiving him by going behind his back with someone else, right? The boy kissed him with so much passion and desperation, he wasn’t going to try to get another boyfriend for when Gerard was at work and he was lonesome…

“Do you love me?” Gerard asked, letting his lips caress Frank’s neck. 

Frank shivered and nodded before stuttering out a quick, “Yes.”

“Just me?” Gerard pressed, even though he knew the answer.

“Well… Well, yeah,” Frank stammered, his words choked off by little moans as Gerard nibbled his throat. “Y-You and M-Mom and a-ah!” 

Gerard sank his teeth in a little, then pulled back in order to strip off Frank’s shirt and then his own. Frank shuddered, his skin prickling with goose bumps. 

He licked his lips as he watched Gerard, knowing what he was going to get next even before Gerard leaned back down and ran the tip of his tongue over Frank’s right nipple. Immediately, his back arched and he let out a shrill gasp. 

Gerard was the one who taught him this pleasure. Gerard was the reason Frank could ask for sex without worrying about sin. He was important to Frank. The boy valued what they had together. He wasn’t going to lie anymore. He wasn’t going to risk breaking what they had…right?

“Love you, Baby,” Gerard whispered as he moved to the other nipple.

“Love you!” Frank cried out when Gerard clamped down with his teeth. The cry was followed quickly by a moan and the boy bucked his hips up against Gerard’s. Gerard sank his teeth in a little harder, then let go—extracted a loud gasp from Frank who relaxed against the bed once the sharp pain ceased. 

“I have to get the lube, okay?” Gerard said, kissing his way up Frank’s throat to his jawline and lips. 

“Okay,” Frank breathed. His body was shaking a little when Gerard pulled away, but he didn’t look scared or anxious. As Gerard was getting the bottle of lubricant and one of the condoms from his stockpile in the drawer, Frank slid out of his jeans and boxer briefs. He got back into position on the bed and watched Gerard, waiting for him to come closer. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank snuggled closer and closer once it was over. He could tell Gerard wasn’t happy with him, and that was terrifying. He felt like he couldn’t breathe the panic was so high—as if someone had a pillow pressed over his face—though he struggled to hide it as he nuzzled Gerard’s chest. 

It was the first time sex had ended without Gerard speaking praises or offering extra kisses. Gerard finished, kissed Frank on the mouth, and pulled away. He cleaned himself up, wiped Frank up, kissed him one last time, then went upstairs for a long time.

A long, long time. 

Frank didn’t say anything about it, though. He felt hurt and scared—terrified Gerard wasn’t going to come back downstairs—but forced himself to get dressed and be patient. He knew Gerard was still upset about the lies, but he couldn’t stay _mad_ after sex, right? Sex was supposed to bring them closer and fix things… Sex showed Gerard how much Frank loved him—even if Gerard hit him. 

Gerard could hit him a hundred times and Frank would always forgive him, and he wanted the sex stuff to prove that. It wasn’t sin if it was an apology, right? It wasn’t sin if he didn’t really enjoy it and just let it happen… 

He was relieved when Gerard did come back downstairs, but didn’t dare ask where he’d gone or why he’d stayed away for so long. Maybe he was just in the bathroom or talking with Mikey or Momma… Frank didn’t ask questions, he just snuggled up to his boyfriend and accepted the love he could get.

“Baby?”

“Yeah?” Frank asked, picking his head up to look at Gerard more closely in the dim light. 

“I know… I mean… Fuck.”

“What’s wrong?” Frank asked, the panic nearly overwhelming him. What if Gerard dumped him? What if the sex was his goodbye?—the only goodbye he was going to get?

Already, Frank started feeling devastated and cheap. His mother had been right, hadn’t she? No one could love him; he was a liar, after all. He was an idiot. A fool. He didn’t deserve a boyfriend…

“I know you said…you lied about Kyle, but…I don’t know. I’m just worried about you.”

“What do you mean?” Frank asked, dropping his head back down and holding Gerard tighter. He didn’t want his boyfriend to leave him. He didn’t like fearing so deeply that the love of his life—his only sense of security—was going to go away. 

“When you…fuck.” Gerard sighed heavily and wrapped his arms around Frank’s shoulders, holding him tight. “When you sucked that kid off, he didn’t… Frank, he didn’t force you that time, did he? I mean…you weren’t raped by him, right?—That time he filmed you?”

“O-Oh,” Frank stammered, taken aback by the question. He knew that confessing he’d lied before would change the way Gerard saw him—maybe cause him to doubt other things Frank said—but he didn’t expect Gerard to ask that. The surprise, however, chipped away at the anxiety a little bit. 

“He didn’t force you to do that, did he? I know you don’t like remembering that and I know really bad shit happened to you because he filmed it, but…if you were that scared of him in the bathroom I just…I worry he did something worse.”

“N-No,” Frank said, spitting it out before he could get the idea to lie. Yes, he’d loved how much attention Gerard paid him after Frank told the lie about Kyle grabbing him, but since he’d told the truth—since Gerard had slapped him—Frank was terrified to tell even the smallest of lies. “No, I… I thought he liked me. I w-was going to do whatever he asked.”

“Okay,” Gerard said, sounding relieved as he squeezed Frank tighter. “I just…I was worried. I love you so much and…I don’t want some shithead taking advantage of you.”

“I love you too,” Frank said quickly, nuzzling Gerard’s neck. 

Gerard sighed and kissed the top of Frank’s head, then rolled over onto his side to hold Frank tight. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard fidgeted in the uncomfortable chair, ducking his head and wringing his hands in his lap. He really didn’t have the money to be here, he really didn’t _want_ to be here, but insurance covered a little bit and he knew he needed to come back.

Get help.

“So what brings you in today, Gerard?—I haven’t seen you in a while,” said Dr. Vokard, her clipboard already in hand. He used to see her twice a month back when he’d first moved back home, but had stopped. His troubles came from relationships and he’d given up on dating. At least, he had before he met Frank.

“I…I need help,” Gerard said, laughing nervously. 

“Alright. With what specifically do you need help?” She asked, seeming to remember immediately how she had to talk to him. 

“Um… Relationship stuff. Just like always,” he said, laughing again as he scratched his leg. 

“You have a new boyfriend?” She asked.

“Uh—yeah. Frank. His name’s Frank.”

“Okay. Tell me about him. Where did you meet Frank?”

Gerard’s first instinct was to lie—say Frank was a troubled boy from the neighborhood that he and his family had taken in—but that wouldn’t help anything. She couldn’t report anything he told her unless he said he wanted to hurt Frank in some way. 

It was safe here, he reminded himself. Safe. His heart didn’t have to pound in his chest at the mention of Frank’s name. He didn’t have to fill with fear and anxiety. 

So Gerard confessed the truth—repeating over and over that he never intended to fall in love with Frank, never meant to make his affections physical. 

“So you _have_ had sex with him? It’s an intimate relationship?”

“Yeah—but he’s seventeen. He’s not a little kid, you know? I-I’m not with him because he’s young. I’m with him because I love him,” Gerard said, heart pounding again.

“Gerard, I’m not worried about you being a pedophile. Now, if Frank were ten or twelve, then I might have some concerns, but as of right now, I don’t think you pose a danger to Frank.” Dr. Vokard smiled at him and jotted something down on her clipboard. 

“I hope not,” Gerard mumbled. “I mean…I don’t want to do anything to hurt him, but…but that’s all I seem to do. I-I… I love him, but I feel like I’m _ruining_ him. He was such a good, quiet kid when he moved in with us, you know? He was so sweet, and I hate saying it, but he was _innocent._ Now he’s…he’s telling lies—and I mean _big_ lies, _huge_ lies. When he moved in, he couldn’t lie about anything. He just wasn’t convincing—you could see it in his face. Now? Now, I can’t tell the difference.”

“And that concerns you?”

“Yeah it concerns me! He lied about another student trying to molest him in the bathroom—he got the kid expelled, for God’s sake. I mean, yeah, they had history and this kid really fucked Frank over, but you can’t just _lie_ about that kind of thing and get away with it.”

“It seems like he did though.”

“Yeah, because I’m the only one who knows. Me and Mikey and that girl Frank hangs out with maybe. He got that kid _expelled,_ and Frank’s the one who punched his teeth out. Frank was suspended for two weeks. That’s it. And I’m starting to think he saw that as a _reward._ ”

“Why would that be a reward?”

“Because he got to spend more time with me! I tried to avoid him, you know, like punish him for lying like that, but he got so _depressed._ I can’t handle seeing him like that. So there he is—lying and getting rewarded for it.”

She asked him if he felt like he needed to be more of a parent or a mentor to Frank than a partner, because of the age gap, and Gerard hesitated to answer. In some respects he felt the need to teach Frank the ways of the world outside his mother’s house, but he didn’t necessarily _want_ to do that. He didn’t want to treat Frank like a child or see him as a kid. He wanted a boyfriend—a partner. An equal. 

“You mentioned feeling the need to punish him for lying…can you elaborate on that a bit more?”

“Shit,” Gerard said, sighing and thinking about how hypocritical that made him sound. He didn’t want Frank to be his inferior, yet there he was trying to reprimand him like a child in order to teach him a lesson. That was what parents were meant to do. Partners were supposed to be equals—supportive. “I… The main reason I’m here is because I…I hit him. I smacked him and I feel just _awful_ about it.”

“Why did you hit him?—What upset you?”

“It was after he’d told me he lied. He told that whole story and had me feeling so fucking sorry for him—I held him all night, you know? He pretended to be all upset and asked me to stay home from work the next day, then in the middle of the night he tells me he lied about it. He made the whole thing up.”

“And so you slapped him?”

“Well, not immediately. There was other stuff that happened. He started having a panic attack and I started panicking and I just…I needed him to stop. I needed him to back off and…and I hit him.”

“How did he respond?”

“He was scared!” Gerard said. “He went over to his bed and laid down… We talked about it later and I still try talking to him about it because I’m _sorry_ and I don’t want him to think that that’s okay in relationships. Like…if things don’t work out between us, I don’t want to see him with some asshole who hits him all the time. His _mom_ was abusive. He doesn’t need that from me.”

“Has Frank said anything to you about it?”

“No, but he acts different now. He was scared of me for a couple days and that hurt, but now he just…I don’t know. I can’t describe it, but he’s different.”

“How has he acted differently toward you? Other than being skittish?”

“Well, he…he’s quieter now. He…sits in his bed instead of mine now and just sort of watches me. I don’t know if it’s because he’s scared of me or if he just has something on his mind… I want to ask, but I…I don’t know.”

“Are you afraid he’ll say something you won’t like?”

“I guess. I mean, who wants to hear their partner say they don’t trust them anymore?”

“Have you two had sex since the altercation?”

“Yeah, once,” Gerard confessed. “It… It was awkward. I didn’t really want to and I don’t think he really wanted to either. It was okay, but we haven’t done anything since then.”

“Do you think that if he was willing to be intimate with you, that he does still trust you?”

“I don’t know. It’s Frank… He does a lot of shit so you won’t be mad at him. We haven’t done it since.”

They talked for a while about how to open the doors for communication, giving tips on non-confrontational ways to begin the conversation about what had happened. They didn’t need to point fingers or place blame, just discuss what happened and how it affected them both. Gerard wasn’t sure it would work, but it was a place to start. If he ignored the reason he’d been upset with Frank, it would just get worse for both of them. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank handled the discussion better than Gerard had thought he would. He kept his head ducked and his gaze turned away as Gerard told him about why it hurt so much to be lied to. Frank’s only explanation was that he’d panicked, but when Gerard told him panic didn’t make Frank keep the lie going—extending to asking Gerard to hold him all night and stay home from work—Frank caved and admitted he just liked the attention.

He felt loved and he liked that Gerard had held him without trying to get sex. He felt safe knowing sex was off the table for that night and didn’t want to let that go. 

“If you’re ever not in the mood, you can just tell me,” Gerard said, looking at Frank who sat across from him at the foot of the bed, petting Zoe.

“But it’s mean,” Frank mumbled.

“What’s mean?”

“Saying no to you,” Frank said, his voice even softer.

“No it’s not. Baby, it’s not mean at all. If you’re not in the mood, you’re not in the mood. I don’t get mad. It’s not mean. Sex is… It’s supposed to be something we do together. Something you _want_ to do together. I don’t want you to feel pressured. You don’t have to lie to me if you just want held for a night.”

Frank stared at Zoe in silence, then looked up at Gerard.

“Are you still mad at me for lying?”

“No. I’m not mad at you—”

“You weren’t here when I got home and I know you weren’t at work…”

“I wasn’t avoiding you,” Gerard said quickly. He didn’t want to admit to Frank that he had been at counseling. He wasn’t ashamed, but he didn’t want Frank to worry or think that he’d driven Gerard back into depression. “I was out… I was just trying to think up how to talk to you about this. I wanted…I wanted to talk about it, but I didn’t want to upset you.”

“I really am sorry I lied. I just panicked. I didn’t want in trouble…then I didn’t want you to leave me.”

“I’m not going to leave you, Baby,” Gerard said, scooting closer and putting a hand on Frank’s shoulder. “I love you. Hitting you didn’t show that and…and I meant it when I told you I’m going to do everything I can to make it up to you.”

“It scared me when you smacked me,” Fran whispered, looking down at Zoe. 

“I know. I’m so sorry, Frankie.”

“I didn’t know I was making you that mad…”

“I wasn’t _angry_ with you, I was starting to have an anxiety attack. I told you that. It wasn’t anger, I was panicking and…and I lashed out.”

“It hurt.”

“I know, Baby,” Gerard said, the guilt gnawing away at him again. “I… I’d do anything to take it back.”

“I’d do anything to go back and not beat up Kyle,” Frank mumbled. “I really didn’t mean to. I just didn’t like how he was touching me.”

“I… I think we’re kind of in a similar spot,” Gerard said. “I panicked and smacked you and…you panicked and hit him.”

“Only I knocked his teeth out.”

“The shithead had it coming,” Gerard said. He wished Frank hadn’t punched the kid’s lights out, but Kyle deserved it for making that stupid video.

“You think so?” Frank asked, looking at Gerard.

“Yes, I think so,” Gerard said, scooting closer and putting his head on Frank’s shoulder. Frank made a pleased sound and inclined his head against Gerard’s. 

“I’m glad you didn’t break up with me over it,” Frank said. “I really thought you would.”

“I’m not dumping you for knocking some sense into an asshole at your school. I was disappointed, but I still love you,” Gerard said, leaning over further until he was lying on the bed. Zoe lifted her head and stared at him, then reached over with her nose and licked his forehead—then his eyes—making Frank giggle. 

“I love you, too,” Frank said, petting Zoe but looking at Gerard. 

It took a while, but Frank eventually laid down beside him—causing Zoe to jump down off the bed—and curled into Gerard’s chest. He seemed happy and Gerard wanted it to stay that way. He held him as close and as tightly as he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm going to do a timeskip in the next chapter to keep things from getting stagnant. How is Frank going to handle Gerard's birthday? It should be the end of March right now in (Mama)-verse.


	72. Chapter 72

_Chapter 72_

Don sighed and held his head in his hand, his elbow propped against the inside door handle of his car. Frank was crying, his forehead resting on the steering wheel as he sobbed. It was their third time out driving since the weather had cleared up and the boy had hit a cat. He tried so hard to avoid it, but the damned thing ran back toward the car in its panic and there was nothing Frank could do.

Don tried to convince him it was a raccoon, but the kid wasn’t fooled. It was a cat. He’d killed somebody’s cat and now he couldn’t stop weeping.

“It’s going to be okay, you know? It’s just a cat. A stray, even. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

“But I killed it! I _killed_ it!” He said something else, but it was just a tearful whimper. 

Don looked away from the tree he’d been staring at outside the window and glanced at the boy’s cell phone, sitting in the center console. He grabbed it and sent a text to Gerard, asking his son to come pick Frank up. It was obvious he wasn’t going to be able to drive the car back and Don didn’t want to hear the boy cry anymore. He really couldn’t stand to hear his crying a minute longer.

“Frank, you need to calm down.”

“I-I _can’t._ I _killed_ it, Don. I…I murdered it.”

“You hit it with the damned car, not a hatchet. You’re not a murderer. It’s a cat, for Christ’s sake.” His annoyance just made Frank cry harder. Frank wasn’t even this upset when he’d scratched the car on someone’s mailbox the week before, and Don had barely been able to handle that emotional breakdown. The boy was a mess—a literal mess—and it would be another fifteen minutes before Gerard could reach them. 

“I didn’t mean to kill it,” Frank cried, babbling nonsense in his misery. He acted as if he’d held the cat in place and ran it over—like he hadn’t stomped on the break and tried everything to avoid hitting it. 

“I know, Frank, but you need to calm down. It’s not worth getting this upset over. It’s just some stupid stray.”

“But what if Zoe runs off and someone hits her? I don’t want to lose my dog,” Frank sobbed, growing even more hysterical as he dared to imagine anything awful happening to his favorite companion. 

“Good god, kid. You need to calm down. Stop it.”

“I-I can’t help it,” Frank whined. “I feel _bad._ I feel so _bad._ ” 

Don rolled his eyes and leaned his head back against the window, waiting impatiently for Gerard to come pick up his neurotic boyfriend. What his son saw in that boy, Don would never understand. Frank was pathetic, whiney, needy—he was everything awful Don could imagine in a girlfriend. He couldn’t do a single thing for himself—he couldn’t even calm himself down. 

Honestly, Don couldn’t wait to ship the boy off to college somewhere. It didn’t matter if he went to the community college half an hour away, Don was going to get him a dorm or a college owned apartment. Maybe getting Gerard away from him for a while would help him to grow up a little. He’d have a chance to stand on his own two feet and see what he was made of. 

“Is that Gerard?” Frank asked when he noticed the car pulling up behind them.

“Yes.”

“Wh-why is Geard here?”

“He’s here to take you home,” Don said, unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the car door.

“I-I can move,” Frank called after him, starting to panic for an entirely different reason. “W-We could’ve traded spots. I-I’m sorry. Don?” He struggled to get his seatbelt undone, then threw open the car door, nearly falling down on the pavement. 

“Frank, what are you doing?” Gerard asked, hurrying to the boy’s side and catching him as he stumbled. “Hey—it’s okay. Don’t cry.”

He wasn’t even frustrated, Don noted as he walked around the front of the car. Gerard was happy to hold onto his mess of a teenage boyfriend and try to calm him down. 

“I hit a cat,” Frank wept, clutching onto Gerard in the middle of the street.

“I know—Dad told me. Come on. Let’s get in my car. I’ll take you home, okay? It’s okay. Come on.” Gerard guided Frank to the passenger side of his car as if this was nothing out of the ordinary. He was so used to comforting the boy that it didn’t even faze him that he’d been called to retrieve him from a side street in the next town over.

Did he really want that for the rest of his life? 

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard smiled as Frank cuddled into his chest, completely calmed down from the whole cat fiasco. Almost as soon as they’d gotten home, Frank’s sadness had turned into embarrassment as he was worried about what Don’s opinion of him must’ve become after seeing Frank come undone that way. Gerard was honestly surprised his father hadn’t really lost his temper with the boy. His dad hated chaos, and a hysterical teenager was as chaotic as it got.

“You falling asleep, Baby?” Gerard asked, petting Frank’s hair. 

“No,” Frank whispered, sounding half asleep despite his protest. 

“No?” Gerard asked, giggling a little.

“No… Just thinking.”

“Oh? About what?”

“Your birthday,” Frank said, his voice just as distant.

“My birthday, huh? You don’t need to worry about that.”

“I want to get you something…but I don’t have money.”

“So make me something. I’d love anything you’d make me.”

“Not true.”

“Yeah it is,” Gerard said, squeezing Frank a little tighter. 

“I just want it to be special,” Frank said, sighing softly as he nuzzled Gerard’s chest and neck. 

“It will be—if I get to spend the day with you, it’s already going to be perfect,” Gerard said, petting Frank’s hair. 

“But I wanted to get you something nice… I just don’t know what—or how to get it.”

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t want anything but you, okay?”

Frank sighed heavily but didn’t protest anymore. He was content to just lie on Gerard’s chest and accept the comfort being offered to him.

“I’m embarrassed,” Frank said after a long silence.

“Why are you embarrassed?—because of Dad?”

“Well…because I just lost it in front of him… It wasn’t just the cat,” Frank said, rolling over to lay on his back at Gerard’s side. “I know he doesn’t like me and I just keep making it worse.”

“He does too like you.”

“No, he doesn’t… I irritate him. I wish he just wouldn’t take me driving anymore. I’m not good at it—”

“Of course you’re not good at it. You just started learning. Don’t beat yourself up over it.” After spending close to a month with his therapist, Gerard felt that things were getting better between them when it came to communication. He let Frank vent, let him cry and hate himself if he really had to, but then reminded him that he was loved and that the way he saw himself wasn’t always right. He had to be more supportive instead of arguing with Frank about whether or not he was good or if he was loved. He had to listen—had to see it from Frank’s perspective. 

Don wasn’t the most expressive man and in order for Frank to feel loved let alone liked was constant validation. Gerard had to tell him multiple times a day that he was loved in order for Frank to feel secure with hm. Don never told Frank he loved him—hell, he hardly told Mikey or Gerard that—or showed affection through touch. To Frank, that meant he wasn’t liked. And failing to meet Don’s expectations when driving just made things worse and worse. 

“You know what happened when Dad first taught me to drive?” Gerard asked, rolling over onto his stomach and looking at Frank’s face—resisting the temptation to distract the boy with a kiss on the throat or jawline. 

“You hit an animal too?” Frank asked, sounding distant—like he thought Gerard were able to make up a story in an attempt to cheer him up.

“No, but I did take a corner too sharp and scraped the hell out of some poor guy’s station wagon and cracked my dad’s headlight.”

“That would be scary,” Frank said, lifting his head up a little. 

“I know it. I started having a panic attack and the guy got in a fight with my dad. It was awful. But you know what? He hasn’t disowned me yet—so I think you’ll be safe, Baby. Dad doesn’t hate you.”

“I know he doesn’t _hate_ me, but he doesn’t like me much either… Especially not when I freak out all the time. I’m annoying,” he said, sighing heavily and rolling so his back was to Gerard. 

“He likes you just fine, Frank. I promise. It’s just not a very masculine thing to show when you like someone, you know? You don’t ever see him hugging me or Mikey, do you?”

“No,” Frank said.

“See? It’s not just you. Dad just isn’t very…lovey dovey. But I promise he’s not mad at you about what happened.”

“You didn’t see him though. He was so irritated with me…”

“I know he was annoyed, but he doesn’t hold that against you. He’s really not like that. He doesn’t hold grudges.”

“I’m not worried he’ll hate me forever, I just don’t want him to see me as an annoyance, you know? I appreciate everything he’s done for me _so much_ but I just don’t show it right…”

“Dad knows you care about him. Trust me, Baby, he knows it’s stressful learning to drive and he knows how hard you are on yourself. He gets it, so don’t let this tear you apart.”

“I’m just embarrassed is all,” Frank said, rolling over again, this time so he could face Gerard. “I… I don’t want to cry that easy in front of him. I just don’t…I don’t like being that weak.”

“It’s not weakness. You’re nervous. I understand. Do you want me to take you driving instead?”

“Mom says you’ll distract me,” Frank said, a smile just barely flickering across his lips.

“Oh, I’ll distract you?” Gerard asked, scooting closer and leaning his head up to kiss Frank on the mouth. The boy giggled and kissed back for a fraction of a second, then ducked his head. “How would I distract you? It’s not like I’d be wanting to kiss you the whole time,” Gerard added. “Or keep my hand on your leg, huh?” He ran his hand over Frank’s thigh, making the boy giggle softly. 

“A-Are we going t-to do stuff later?” Frank asked, blushing hard.

“Maybe after everyone’s gone to bed,” Gerard said, letting his hand linger on Frank’s thigh a little longer before kissing his forehead. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Donna had taken Frank out to buy something for Gerard’s birthday after this latest therapy session, but picking out a gift was much easier said than done. They first went to the mall to look at clothes, but Frank didn’t like anything he saw on the clearance racks. They didn’t have a lot of money, but Frank wanted to pick something nice…something different. 

He really needed to get another job so he wouldn’t have to leach off Donna and Don so much, but it was hard since he couldn’t drive and had to work around his classes. Evening jobs, it seemed, were just hard to come by. For him, at least.

Donna ended up buying Gerard a new hoodie at the mall, but had to try three more stores in town while Frank struggled to decide on anything. Their family had gotten him _so much_ on his birthday—it hurt that he couldn’t do any better for Gerard than a last-minute gift…

There were no movies or CDs Frank could think to get for Gerard, and they couldn’t afford a new drawing tablet for him though Frank knew he wanted one. He couldn’t think of any posters he’d want or any special headphones… He was just at a loss.

It made him feel terrible that he’d been dating Gerard for four months and he couldn’t name a single, practical gift.

Their final stop was an arts supply store where Frank was informed he had to pick _something_ or else Gerard wasn’t getting anything from him at all. It was their last stop of the day and they needed to get home so Donna could start on dinner.

The whole time spent wandering the aisles of the craft store filled Frank to the brim with anxiety. He could barely keep his breathing under control and he felt like he might start to cry when he couldn’t see a single unique thing to give his boyfriend. There were paints and pens and charcoals—all kinds of things—but Frank didn’t know what Gerard wanted and it seemed that Gerard already owned the whole stock of supplies.

“What about this, Frank?” Donna asked after nearly forty fruitless minutes spent wandering the store. She had a set of oil paints in her hand that were discounted—the product apparently discontinued according to the sign on the shelf. “We could get these and some canvases. I know he already has brushes… I know it’s not what you’re looking for, but it’s something. It’s a nice set.”

She handed the package to Frank and he looked it over. The colors were nice—not just the standard spectrum but unique shades in between. Thirty-five colors in all. 

“Okay,” Frank said, mostly because he knew Donna’s patience with him was wearing thin. They went on to buy a couple of canvases and a small sketchpad which Frank knew his boyfriend wouldn’t want or need though Donna insisted he could never have too many sketchbooks. 

When they got back to the house, Mikey helped Frank to wrap the packages and got Frank to let him label the sketchpad as a gift from him since he hadn’t bothered to join them or pick anything for Gerard himself. 

Gerard’s birthday wasn’t for two more days, but Frank was hardly able to show any excitement at all when the day finally arrived. He’d helped Donna prepare a special dinner for him and helped pick out a store bought cake to save on time, but he was ashamed of the gifts he’d picked out and rued the moment he was going to have to show them to Gerard. They just weren’t special enough, in Frank’s opinion. They weren’t what you gave to a boyfriend of four months. They just seemed so…thoughtless. Generic. Art supplies for an artist.

What would Gerard have to be excited about other than the sex he knew he was going to get afterwards?

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank wasn’t happy with the gifts. Gerard could tell that right away—as soon as Frank handed the carefully wrapped packages over. He wouldn’t even look Gerard in the eye as if he were ashamed of what he’d picked out.

His mother bought him a hoodie—a really heavy, warm one with a skull design on the back—and Frank had picked out art supplies. The paints he’d chosen were really nice and Gerard was impressed that the boy had managed to get their mother to spend a little extra on such a high quality brand. 

Frank wouldn’t accept any of Gerard’s praise for the gifts and kept his head lowered, even as they ate dinner. His spirits seemed so low and Gerard couldn’t understand why. Getting gifts really didn’t mean that much for Gerard—especially not now that he’d turned twenty-four. He just wanted to relax on his birthday and spend time with Frank. He’d honestly hoped to go out for dinner, but couldn’t dare bring that up when he was presented with a home cooked meal and an expensive-looking chocolate cake. 

Gerard had to wait until after dinner to make it out of the house, and coerced Frank to go with him to the local café for a coffee before the shop closed for the night. Even on the car ride over, Frank was quiet except to apologize for the lousy gifts he’d picked out. 

Instead of taking the coffee’s to go, Gerard led Frank over to a table after they got their drinks and made the boy sit with him. He hated seeing Frank so visibly torn up over something so foolish. Material gifts didn’t mean anything to Gerard now—not when he had Frank. Not when he actually had someone around to make him happy.

“Baby, will you look at me?” Gerard said quietly. Frank glanced up at him, but only held eye contact for a moment before bowing his head again. “What’s the matter? You seem really upset today and—”

“I’m sorry. I know it’s irritating. I just wanted… I wanted to get you something nice, but…I couldn’t find anything.”

“That’s because I already _have_ everything. You understand that, right?”

“I didn’t want to get you art supplies because I _know_ you already have everything. But nothing else fit you…”

“Baby, I don’t mean the art supplies. I mean _you._ ” He knew it was cheesy and overused, but he meant it. He’d had boyfriends who had bought him ridiculously expensive things on his birthday, but none of that even mattered to him now. Items got broken or lost or used up. “All I wanted for today was to get to spend time with you where I don’t have to worry about running late for work or getting home and finding you already asleep without me.”

“I always try to wait up for you,” Frank mumbled, looking at Gerard sadly. 

“I know—and I always wake you up accidentally on purpose when you don’t quite make it. Teenage boys shouldn’t fall asleep by ten-thirty, you know,” Gerard teased, smiling a little as he took a sip of his latte.

“They do when they have to get up at six-thirty for school,” Frank mumbled.

“Frank?”

“Hm?” The boy stared at his cup, but didn’t take a drink. He was upset. He was _really_ that upset.

“Do you…know what I really wanted for my birthday?” Gerard asked, reaching across the table and setting his hand on top of Frank’s. He didn’t care who saw. Nobody’s judgment was enough to keep Gerard from expressing how much he truly did care for the boy. 

“What?” Frank asked, looking at their hands first, then meeting Gerard’s gaze. 

“All I want is for you and me to sit in bed, get really, really close, and watch the original _Star Wars_ trilogy. That’s it. That’s all I want.”

The look Frank gave him was priceless. He looked confused and anxious, as though he didn’t believe it at first, then shook his head.

“Gerard, I’m being serious,” Frank mumbled.

“So am I. I just want to watch _Star Wars_ with you. We can even make fun of the bad special effects if you want. I just want to be with you and _Star Wars._ My two favorite things.”

“You’re a nerd,” Frank said, rolling his eyes as he tried to fight the small smile that overtook his lips. 

“But you love me, right?” Gerard asked, smiling. 

“Duh. If I didn’t I wouldn’t watch those movies with you…” Frank mumbled.

Gerard wanted to make a joke about how he could never have imagined himself dating someone who didn’t love _Star Wars_ the way he did, but decided to save it for a day Frank wasn’t in a mood so dark. 

“So that’s a yes to _Star Wars,_ then?” Gerard asked.

“Yeah,” Frank said as he finally lifted his cup and took a sip of his soy latte. “We should head back soon then. That’s a lot of movies and I have to be up for school.”

“I’m off work tomorrow. Cough a few times and tell Mom you’re sick. She’ll let you stay home with me.”

Frank started blushing and smiled around the lid of his cup. He would play sick tomorrow, too, if Gerard seriously asked it of him. Gerard bet he could even coax his mother into going out to buy medicine and get them the house alone together for at least thirty minutes. 

They could do a lot in thirty minutes if Frank could let go of being shy.

( ) ( ) ( )

It was the week of spring break when Don took Frank out driving again. He was getting better but still couldn’t help but panic every time he turned a corner, or a larger vehicle passed him, or he had to change lanes. He was such an anxious kid and it seemed that would never, ever change. Donna insisted that Frank would calm down with time, but he never did. It seemed, more than anything, like they all just got used to how skittish and frightened Frank was. 

“Why don’t you pull into that lot over there?” Don said, pointing toward a small grocery store on the other side of the street.

“O-Over where?” Frank asked, his anxiety spiking. 

“Just there. Across the street.”

Frank let out a shaky breath and looked around anxiously before signaling and going into the turning lane. He took an eternity to finally work up the nerve to turn, too afraid to pull out in front of any other vehicle no matter how far down the road it was.

“Let’s just practicing parking for a little bit. You look like you’re getting nervous.” He would rather pretend he just wanted Frank to practice parking than tell the kid he looked too panicked to keep driving on the road. He was going to get them in an accident and Don just knew it. 

“Parking?” Frank asked, licking his lips nervously.

“Yeah. Pull in over there—just there by that red car.”

“The red car?” Frank repeated, hitting the brakes a little too hard as he looked for the parking space Don mentioned. 

The boy started to turn for the spot a little too late and Don knew immediately that it wasn’t going to work. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out except a choked groan of dread before the bang—before the front end of his blue car scraped the bumper of a neighboring white car.

Don cringed, not sure what to dread more—the damage done to his and the other person’s car or Frank’s inevitable meltdown. 

“D-Did… D-Did I-I—”

“Yeah, just back up. Back it up and we’ll move to a different spot, okay?”

“D-Don’t we h-have to like…leave i-insurance o-or something?”

“Not in a parking lot. Come on. Back up and we’ll go somewhere else.”

Frank stared ahead of him at the white car, looking sick to his stomach.

“Come on. We’ll go somewhere else. It’s not that bad.”

“D-Did I—”

“Frank, back up and we’ll go somewhere else.”

“D-Don, I-I’m sorry!” Frank still looked too startled to cry, but he was certainly working himself up to tears and that was something Don didn’t feel equipped to handle. Dings and scratches in the car didn’t bother him—dealing with a seventeen-year-old boy who cried like a five-year-old whenever things didn’t go as planned was what wore him out. 

The boy was immature—whether because of the abuse he’d endured or for the attention it got him, Don would never know for sure. He just couldn’t see how his oldest son could put up with it and call Frank his boyfriend. 

Sure, they all thought Don wasn’t aware of what had been going on between the two, but he’d known before his wife—before the whole kissing fiasco. Gerard acted different around guys he liked and it was blatantly obvious that his affections for Frank went beyond a brotherly bond. He knew for sure the moment Gerard brought home Zoe that his son was head over heels for the younger boy. 

But why?

What the hell did he see in this pathetic mess that he wanted to take to bed at night? 

“Just move the car, Frank. We can’t sit here all damned day,” Don snapped when Frank still hadn’t moved. 

“O-Okay. I’m sorry, Don. I-I’m really sorry.” He managed to back up the car and pull back onto the road as per Don’s directions, but they barely made it two blocks before the boy started crying. 

“Just head back to the house. I think… I think you’ve had enough today,” Don said, rubbing his brow and letting out a heavy sigh.

Frank sniffed loudly and chewed his lips. It surprised Don that the boy was able to find his way home without asking Don for directions.

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard was in his bed sketching in his new, small sketchpad when Frank got home from driving. He could tell right away that it went wrong since he didn’t even have time to take his headphones off before Frank was crawling on top of him—literally on top of him—with his knees on either side of Gerard’s waist. Frank buried his face in Gerard’s neck and let out a soft whimper as Gerard set his sketchpad aside and wrapped his arms around the boy’s shoulders. 

“What happened, Baby?” Gerard asked, keeping his voice as gentle as he could. 

“I scratched his car,” Frank said, sobbing softly.

“Oh—it’s okay. His car’s got a lot of scratches. It’s alright.” Gerard held him a little tighter and kissed the side of his head. 

“I don’t feel good at all,” Frank whimpered. “I feel really sick.”

“Sick?” Gerard started sitting up and pulled Frank with him, holding him still and petting his hair as he moved. “Baby, you don’t need to get that worked up over it. It’s just a scratch. He didn’t yell at you, did he?”

“N-No but he’s mad. I know he is… I’m—I’m an _embarrassment_ to him. I can’t even park the car and he’s been trying to teach me for weeks.”

“It takes more than a couple weeks to learn how to drive. It’s alright. He understands. He taught me—I told you all about that. I hit so much stuff. I promise he’s not mad.”

“I just…” Frank let out a sob and pressed his face harder into the crook of Gerard’s neck. “I don’t want to be this useless.”

“You’re not useless. Come on, Baby. It’s not that big of a deal. If it makes you feel better, I’ll take you driving from now on instead of Dad. Okay? My car’s a piece of junk. You could run it off a cliff and you’d be doing me a favor.”

Frank shook his head and clutched onto Gerard’s sweater, crying until his breath started to hitch and the sobs turned to gagging.

“Babe—Baby, just calm down,” Gerard said, pushing Frank back by his shoulders. “Don’t throw up on me, okay?” 

He could tell by his labored breaths that Frank was trying to hold back, but it was all for nothing. He started gagging and Gerard barely had time to grab the trashcan by his desk and get it in front of Frank before he threw up. 

Gerard rubbed his back through the tremors, shaking his head. He really wished there were more he could do, but Frank’s anxiety was impossible to manage. The boy refused any medications his therapist gave him and obviously failed to cope with his stress. Some days he was better, but when it came to anything intense, Frank was still a mess and it killed Gerard to see him so upset. 

He knew it irritated his father to have Frank so easily stressed out, but Frank couldn’t help himself. He grew up in fear, always waiting for the next blow. No kind words could soothe him when his body was expecting an assault. 

“Baby…”

“I still don’t feel good,” Frank cried, spitting into the trashcan and rubbing at his eyes.

“Okay. Let’s go upstairs. I’ll help you upstairs—we’ll go to the bathroom, okay?”

“Okay,” Frank said, sniffing loudly as Gerard took the trashcan from him and set it on the floor to be cleared away later. 

Gerard wrapped an arm around him and helped support him as he guided him up the steps.

“Everything okay?” Mikey asked, pausing his hunt for food in the fridge to pass them a concerned look.

“He’s fine. He’s just stressed out,” Gerard said as he led Frank into the living room. He gave his father a cold glare as he took Frank upstairs, smoothing his hair as the boy shook next to him on the stairs. “It’s going to be okay. I promise. You’re okay,” Gerard whispered.

Frank sniffed and shook his head. 

He needed help, Gerard thought. Help from someone better suited than himself or the therapist he was currently seeing.


	73. Chapter 73

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are a follower of my Twitter, then yes--this is THE chapter. For those who don't, prepare to become unhappy with me.

_Chapter 73_

He cornered her immediately the next morning—ready to argue from the moment he’d woken up. After breakfast the tensions just climbed higher and higher as he waited for everyone to go back about their business before laying in on her about Frank. As if she were the only reason Frank was in his house. As if he thought Frank being in their house was literally the source of all their problems.

“I know, money’s tight right now. _I know._ I’ve been cutting back where I can, but I’m not going to stop buying vegan for Frank just because of that. We get _paid_ by the state to take care of him. That money goes on his food—not toward bills.”

“We _need_ it for bills right now. I’m not saying make him eat dairy—I _know_ he’s lactose intolerant—but all that tofu and soy shit is getting out of hand. He needs to get over himself and eat meat with the rest of us.”

“Don, he doesn’t like what slaughterhouses do to animals—”

“Who _cares_ what slaughterhouses do to animals! The animals are dying anyway whether he eats them or not! And maybe if he started eating normal, we wouldn’t have to buy him all those fucking supplements and vitamins because he doesn’t get any nutrients from that tofu shit.”

“We get _paid_ to take care of Frank. The money is supposed to go to Frank—”

“We need help paying bills! You can’t stand here and act like the utility bills haven’t gone up since he moved in.”

“I know they have, but if you need more we can ask Gerard to pay—”

“He needs to start paying _rent_ if he’s going to live in our basement the rest of his life instead of spending all of his money on that _kid!_ Gerard spends half his paycheck on that kid and the other half on that dog he bought for him!”

“You love Zoe and you know it.”

“That’s not the point!”

Donna sighed and turned to look out the window over the kitchen sink. It did no good to argue with him when he was in a mood like this. 

“I get that he’s had a hard a life, alright—I know. But we don’t need to treat him like a fucking prince just because of that. You let that boy get away with murder. He could burn down our house and you’d give him a damned medal for it.”

“I would not,” Donna said firmly.

“You would! You’re as obsessed with that boy as Gerard.”

“Oh, _stop._ I know you’re stressed, but don’t take it out on Frank.”

“I’m not taking it _out_ on Frank. You just won’t admit that things were _easier_ before he came. I wasn’t pulling twelve hour shifts before he got here.”

“No one said you _had_ to take the extra hours. I told you—Gerard can start helping out more with the bills. There’s no reason to yell at me. You know if you want me to get a part-time job, I will.”

“Right, and have _Mikey_ make dinner for us because we know Gerard can’t even work a fucking microwave.”

“I would get a day job—you’d still have your dinner,” Donna hissed. It filled her with dread when her eyes caught movement at the top of the stairs and she spotted Frank coming into the room. She could tell right away by the happy-go-lucky expression on his face that he hadn’t been listening to the argument, but she knew that wouldn’t last long. 

The sight of him was going to be enough to send her husband over the edge. She tried to get the first word in, to tell Frank to just go back down to his room for a moment because she and Don were talking, but the boy spoke first. 

“Mom, you have to see this thing Jamia sent me—it’s really funny.” He started coming toward her, his cell phone in hand. He was looking down at the screen, bringing up whatever it was he wanted her to see, and therefore missed the scowl on Don’s face.

“Maybe later, Frankie—I’m a little busy right now,” she said, passing Don a cautious glance, warning him not to snap at the boy.

“It’ll only take a second—it’s really funny.”

“Not now, Frank. I’ll see it later, alright? Just go back downstairs,” she said, resisting the urge to put a protective arm around him when he came near. She could see the look in Don’s eyes—he’d already lost his patience and was only going to be a matter of seconds before his temper went with it.

“It’s really funny though. It’ll just take a second—”

“She told you, _not now!_ Can’t you see we’re in the middle of something!? How disrespectful can you be?”

_“Don.”_

Frank’s smile immediately dropped, his face going pale.

“I-I’m sorry. I just—”

“You don’t listen! She told you not now and you just _don’t listen!_ We’re talking right now—go to your room!”

“Don, don’t yell at him,” Donna hissed.

Frank stammered a moment, backing up a step as his eyes flickered back and forth between his foster parents. He already had tears in his eyes though he was trying to fight them and Donna wished she could just grab him and hug him—but that would just agitate Don further. She would talk with Frank later and try cheering him up. 

“I-I… I-It’s okay. I-I’m sorry I didn’t—I didn’t listen. Sorry, Don—I… I’ll go. I’m sorry.” Frank backed toward the basement steps, shaking horribly.

“Be careful, Frank—watch where you’re going,” Donna called after him.

“He can walk down the fucking steps without you telling him how.”

“Don, knock it off!” Donna passed him a ferocious glare, but her focus returned quickly to the steps when she heard a loud bang. “Frank?” He didn’t answer. _“Frank?”_

“I-I’m fine, I…I dropped my phone.”

“Great, now we have to buy him another one,” Don said, muttering to himself this time, fortunately, so the boy couldn’t hear.

“Stop it!” Donna growled. “You can yell at me—I can take it—but you _don’t_ yell at him! He’s _fragile._ ”

“He’s a child in a teenager’s body! He acts like he’s four! Aren’t you over this shit by now? He’s not some innocent little kid! He knocked some other guy’s teeth out! Don’t tell me you forgot that already!”

“Stop _yelling._ You know he can hear you.”

“Good—maybe he’ll learn to grow up. I couldn’t believe how he acted yesterday after scratching up my car. He spent all night puking his guts out and why?—To get _your_ attention. The kid’s not happy if all eyes aren’t on him and he’s not getting pity.”

“Stop it. This isn’t about Frank. This isn’t about your car or getting a scratch on it, and you know it. It’s about work. It’s about _you_ being stressed at work. I told you, if we need the money, _I’ll_ get a job. I can go back to waitressing; I can get work at the dry cleaners...”

“You don’t need another job if we can just adjust the finances—quit spending money on vegan shit and vitamins supplements.”

Donna sighed heavily and rubbed at her temples. This was about to be a long argument.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank was still shaking, even an hour after the argument. He’d cracked the screen on his cell phone when he’d dropped it and he was terrified that Don would see and scold him for that as well. Not only was he disrespectful, he was careless and ungrateful. Stupid and worthless. 

So far he’d managed not to cry more than a few sparse tears, trying hard to keep himself together in case Don came down to finish telling him off. 

He’d _known_ Don didn’t like him. He’d known it from day one. Don hated him, and he didn’t belong here. He didn’t deserve to be in this house, driving his car, wasting all their money on his special food and new clothes because he kept gaining weight like a fucking pig. 

Another tear fell and, as if on cue, he heard the door open—Gerard coming home from work. Don and Donna stopped yelling back and forth while Donna quickly muttered something to Gerard—her voice an incomprehensible hum—then Gerard started yelling too. Frank then heard Gerard’s heavy footfalls on the stairs and he quickly wiped at his face to rid it of the tears.

“Frankie?” As soon as Gerard was in the room with him, he had his hands on Frank’s shoulders, rubbing them. “Everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” Frank whispered.

“Mom said Dad yelled at you,” Gerard said, sitting down beside Frank on the bed and hugging him close. 

“Stop—I’m not four,” Frank mumbled, pulling away and putting a foot of space between them. 

“Frank, what did he say?” Gerard asked, letting Frank have his space though his expression remained distressed. 

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“No you’re not.”

“Really,” Frank said, trying to force the pitiful look off his face. “I’m okay. I got in the way, that’s all. I know better… I was being stupid.”

“What happened to your phone?” Gerard asked, grabbing Frank’s hand when he noticed the cracked screen. “Did Dad do this?”

“No! I… I dropped it.”

“Is that why he yelled at you?”

“No… He doesn’t know yet.”

“Does it still work?—If it’s broken, I’ll buy you another. He doesn’t have to know.”

“You don’t… You don’t need to buy anything for me. I don’t deserve it.” He didn’t want Gerard being nice to him out of pity. He knew he was just pathetic. Gerard was with him out of pity, just like Donna kept him out of pity… The only difference between them was Gerard could use him for sex. The sex was the only thing that kept life with Frank bearable to Gerard. The only thing…

“Frank, what did he say? Come on…” He started rubbing small circles into Frank’s back, but it didn’t soothe him. 

“I interrupted him and Mom. He just told me to go away. That’s it. I was stupid… It’s my own fault.”

“He didn’t need to yell at you, though. You didn’t deserve that.”

“It’s…it’s fine, you know? I know he’s…he’s stressed from work and having me here just makes it worse.”

“Having you here makes no fucking difference. He had no right to yell at you—he knows how sensitive you are.”

“Just because I’m sensitive doesn’t mean he should have to tiptoe around me. Sometimes I deserve it, you know? And today I…I deserved it. I should’ve listened to Mom—to…to Donna.”

“No one _deserves_ to get yelled at. I know how he is. It’s not pleasant to be on the receiving end of—”

“Gerard, I’m fine,” Frank said, forcing on a small, sad smile. “Really. I just…I feel bad about my phone.”

“Does it work?”

“Yeah. It’s just cracked.”

“Maybe…maybe I’ll start taking some money out of my checks for the next few weeks and I’ll get you another one.”

“I don’t need a new one… It still works.”

“But I want my Baby to have nice things,” Gerard said, leaning over and kissing Frank on the cheek. It didn’t help, but Frank forced a smile for him just so he’d stop prying. The more Gerard wanted to talk about it, the more it hurt Frank.

Gerard might believe that Frank didn’t deserve it, but Frank knew he did. Donna had told him to go away and he didn’t listen. Don had no choice but to put him back in his place. Politely asking wasn’t going to help… 

“Are you sure you’re okay, Baby?” Gerard asked, kissing Frank’s cheek again. 

“Yeah. I just…I want to forget about it.”

“Okay. We won’t…we won’t talk about it.” Gerard moved to lie down on Frank’s bed, but Frank didn’t lie down beside him. He knew that whenever Don and Donna quit fighting, Donna would come down to check on him—to make sure that he was okay even though he was the thing ruining her marriage. Just like he’d ruined his parents’ marriage by being born… It was a shock his father had even wanted to come see him or introduce him to his girlfriend. “Baby, I know you’re still upset. Come here—let me help.”

“I’m fine, Gerard. I’m just…sensitive. I’ll get over it.”

“I know you will, but I want to help. Come here. Give me a kiss, Baby.” 

Frank sighed and gave in to Gerard’s demands. There was no reason to piss off anyone else. It was easier to just do as he was told. 

As soon as he was snuggled into Gerard’s side, his boyfriend put an arm around him and squeezed him tightly. He kept kissing the top of Frank’s head until he gave in and tilted his head back, letting their lips touch and their tongues meet. Slowly Gerard’s hand started sliding down to Frank’s groin, cupping him and then stroking him until Frank gasped and started growing hard. They couldn’t do anything—especially not if Donna was going to come down at any minute and check on them—and Gerard knew it to. It wasn’t fair of him to do this, but Frank just went along with it. He didn’t want to fight with anyone. If Gerard wanted to touch, Frank’s body was his for the taking. 

Maybe if they got caught, Don would kick him out and put him out of his misery. 

Frank moaned into Gerard’s mouth, eyes slipping closed as the pleasure rippled through him. 

“I’ll make it up to you tonight, Frank. I’ll take good care of you.” 

Frank whimpered and rutted against Gerard’s palm. He wished he didn’t have to wait until later. These touches distracted him—easily—and he was willing to do just about anything to get his mind off of how angry Don had been at him. To get those words to stop echoing in his head, Frank was even willing to do anything.

“I’ll go slow tonight. Make you feel really good.” Gerard smiled and kissed Frank’s forehead, then started moving away.

Frank whimpered when Gerard pulled his hand away and just started kissing him instead, giving him no pressure or friction at all after working to make him hard. He didn’t like being teased. It wasn’t fair for Gerard to treat him that way… He would’ve been fine to just cuddle—but that wasn’t what Gerard used him for. 

The thought struck him hard. He was just Gerard’s glorified sex toy. He’d never felt that way before, but once the thought entered his head, it wouldn’t leave. It made so much sense. Don hated him. Donna tolerated him. Mikey was only his friend because they lived together… Now he realized he was not so much a boyfriend, but rather a pleasure toy that moved on its own sometimes. 

“Are you okay?” Gerard asked.

“You… You stopped,” Frank said, finding it easier to say than ‘you teased me.’

“Baby, Mom’s making dinner. We don’t have time to finish.”

“Then why start?” Frank asked quietly, cuddling up to him again and making sure he was pressed close enough that Gerard couldn’t stroke him again. He didn’t want taunted anymore.

“I don’t know… Sorry,” Gerard said, kissing his head and nuzzling him. 

“Do you love me?” Frank asked.

“Of course. I love you so much, Baby. Why?”

“I don’t know…”

“Dad only yelled at you because he’s stressed about work and you got in the line of fire. It doesn’t mean you’re unlovable, Baby.”

“I don’t like making people mad at me,” Frank said, accepting it when Gerard pulled him up and onto his chest, his shoulder working as a pillow for Frank’s head as the boy wrapped his arms around Gerard’s torso.

“Dad’ll get over it. I promise—it had _nothing_ to do with you.”

“I’m scared for dinner…”

“He won’t yell at you again. I won’t let him.”

Frank sighed, nuzzling Gerard’s neck. He felt warm here, and safe, but his chest was still cold and tight. Every now and then he would shudder, a response to the icy feeling in his veins. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything good for your birthday,” Frank whispered, eager to change the subject even if the shift didn’t make him feel any better.

“What are you talking about? I loved it. I told you that.”

“It wasn’t anything special…”

“Hey,” Gerard said, grabbing Frank’s chin and forcing the boy to look at him in the eye “Anything you give me is special, okay? You didn’t have to get me anything at all, but you did and it makes me happy.”

“It was just paints…you already have all the paint you need—”

“But it’s from you. That’s why I like it,” Gerard said, forcing Frank to hug him and burying his face in the boy’s neck. 

“You didn’t look very excited,” Frank whispered.

“Baby, you’re imagining things again.”

Frank sighed and stopped talking. It didn’t feel like it was all in his head. If he was imagining it, that meant he was crazy—crazy like Momma. And he _wasn’t_ crazy. He was pathetic and broken and needy, but he wasn’t mad. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank slid out of bed, sad at how easy it was to get out from under Gerard’s arm without waking the other man. Zoe lifted her head, but Frank told her to stay as he stepped away from the bed. It was dark and their room was cold, the chilly air making Frank’s skin prickle as he started picking up his discarded clothing and putting them back on. He’d gotten to give Gerard a blowjob, and managed to keep Gerard from touching him throughout the whole thing—even though he’d lost his clothes at the start. Dinner—sitting near Don who wouldn’t speak or look at him—had driven the pain in Frank’s chest even deeper. He didn’t want sex after being subjected to that.

Don _hated_ him. Don hated the very sight of him. Frank felt awful because of it. He wished he’d just stayed out of the way. Wished he could change everything about himself to become less offensive to the man… But it was too late to change. He was a burden. It was all he’d ever be.

He was sensitive to the point that it was crippling—pathetic. Useless. Even his mother had never made him feel this low. 

His mother had hated him from the day he was born, her instincts telling her he was terrible. When he’d moved in with Don and Donna, he’d let them convince him that he was normal, that there was nothing wrong with him—that his mother was just sick and he wasn’t so terrible. But now he knew. That wasn’t true. He’d made his new family hate him just as much as his real one. 

How long would it be before Gerard hated him as well? 

How long would it be before his dad abandoned him again, realizing he wasn’t worth the effort needed to reconnect? It was hard to even get his father on the phone anymore as it was… He’d already begun his retreat.

It was better, Frank thought, if he just got out of the way. It was better for everyone if he disappeared—ceased to exist. He couldn’t hurt anyone or inconvenience anyone ever again, and no one could hurt him either.

If he was gone, his father couldn’t abandon him, Gerard couldn’t leave him… He would have abandoned them.

That was the thought that compelled him to leave the basement bedroom—to stop staring through the dark at Gerard’s sleeping form. He couldn’t wake him up. He couldn’t ask for Gerard to distract him or change his mind. It was over. The dream was over and he’d rather stay asleep forever than wake up to this nightmare. 

If he did this, no one could ever hurt him again.

That feeling, that sick, painful feeling, would never grip at his chest again. Never again. He wouldn’t hurt anymore. If he could do this, it would end. It would all go away. 

Frank’s breaths were coming fast and heavy as he started up the basement stairs, his heart pounding as he talked himself up in his head. 

No more pain. No more anxiety. No more being sensitive or immature or pathetic. Nothing. He could become nothing.

The thought brought him so much peace, but it still wasn’t enough to blot out the fear as he stepped into the kitchen—eyes fixed on the cupboard under the sink. 

He bit his lip as tears rushed him. He remembered the time he’d tried to drink the bleach and Gerard had stopped him, then he remembered the look on Don’s face when he’d yelled at him that afternoon. It didn’t even compare to the looks his mother would get when she laid eyes on him. Her eyes had been cold, unloving but indifferent. Don’s had been full of hate—fiery. 

Don wasn’t sick like Momma. Don hated him all on his own. Frank had caused it. 

Frank made the man hate him, and he deserved to suffer for that. 

It was to be a punishment and an escape. He would suffer, and then he’d be free—he’d never feel pain again. 

Frank took in shaking breath as he knelt before the cupboard and pulled it open. 

It was all going to go away. He’d be alright. It would all be alright if he could just do this. 

No more pain, he told himself, thinking of the look in Don’s eyes. No more hurt, no more sadness or anxiety. He could escape. If he did this, he could escape forever. 

He sobbed softly as he reached into the cupboard, only able to see the outlines of the plastic bottles in the dim glow from the nightlight plugged in on the opposite wall. He didn’t need to see well to find the bottle he wanted. 

It was floor cleaner. A diluted, dollar store brand, but it would work. It was new, too. The seal not even broken.

Frank cried as he picked the foil safety seal off, reminding himself again and again why this had to happen. Several times he paused and stared at the basement stairwell, praying he would hear Gerard moving or calling for him. 

But Gerard was still asleep. Gerard was asleep, and that meant God wanted him to do this. It was his time—this was his chance. It was the only one he was going to get…

Even Zoe wasn’t coming after him, though she had to have sensed his distress.

Frank let the foil seal fall onto the floor beside the white, plastic cap—the smell of flowers and chemicals striking his nose. 

No more pain, he thought, letting out a choked sob. He wouldn’t have to hurt anymore if he did this. No one could look at him in hatred again. No one could build him up just to crush him again. 

Frank let out one final cry of pain, then brought the bottle to his lips and—without giving it a second thought—took a drink.

( ) ( ) ( )

In his sleep, Gerard heard a loud thud. It woke him, but just slightly and he let out a sleepy groan. It was probably the heater kicking on again. It was getting louder and louder every day—probably getting ready to break down.

Then the thud came again, and instead of seeming to be all around him, Gerard heard it overhead. His eyes snapped open, peering through the dark at the ceiling. 

All of a sudden, there was another thud, followed by a sharp bark—Zoe.

Gerard’s first thought was that someone had broken in—especially when Zoe barked another time, louder.

Then Gerard realized there was space beside him in bed where Frank was supposed to be. Upstairs, the thudding came again, more rapidly, as something repeatedly banged into the ground.

“Oh, shit,” Gerard hissed, throwing off his blankets and switching on the light. His heart was pounding as he looked around the room, praying Frank was in his own bed and that there _was_ a burglar upstairs, but he was alone. As fast as he could, Gerard pulled on his boxers, discarded on the floor earlier, and bolted for the stairs. “Frank!?” 

He was answered with several rapid, loud barks from Zoe.

Gerard could hear his pulse throbbing in his ears as he reached the top of the steps and entered into the kitchen. Even in the shadows and the dim glow of the kitchen nightlight, there was no mistaking what he saw.

Frank was on his back on the floor, seizing, the thudding Gerard had heard being the boy’s shoulders and head striking the floor as the convulsions rocketed through him. 

Gerard froze at the sight, hoping this was a nightmare—even blinking hard a few times in hopes he’d awake. But it didn’t stop. He didn’t wake up. Frank kept writhing and Zoe yapped at him, looking from Frank to Gerard as if to ask him why he wasn’t doing anything to help.

Gerard stumbled forward, his legs shaking hard and practically dropping all of his weight when he attempted to kneel down beside Frank—desperate to keep his head from smashing into the kitchen tile another time. He pulled Frank up into a sitting position, not sure what to do, and moved to sit behind him so when Frank convulsed, his head struck Gerard’s chest instead of the floor. 

“Baby?” Gerard said, knowing Frank couldn’t hear him. His mind was racing, but at the same time was horribly quiet—all he could settle on was the horror he felt, the sheer terror. He didn’t know what to do—he needed to call an ambulance, but he didn’t grab his phone and he couldn’t leave Frank to get one. 

Over the sound of his own pulse, he could hear Zoe’s shrill barking and the choked, strangled sounds his boyfriend was making—his _dying_ boyfriend. He didn’t want to hold Frank as he died. He didn’t want to watch his boyfriend die.

“Mom!” Gerard screamed, feeling every bit like a small child—lost and helpless. He kept screaming for her over and over until he heard the hurried footsteps on the stairs. 

“What happened? What’s wrong?” His mother asked, her voice just as panicked as Gerard’s. 

“Call 911,” Gerard whimpered turning to look at her as he held onto Frank who continued to jerk in his grasp. 

He watched as his mother hurried over to her cellphone where it sat charging on the kitchen counter and dialed the number. She was staring at Frank, her face pale and widened with shock.

Gerard couldn’t bear to look at her and cast his eyes down toward the floor, only working to heighten his sense of dread when he spotted the floor cleaner bottle by Frank’s feet. Gerard had bought the bottle at his mother’s request only a few day before. She wanted to get ready for spring cleaning. It had been completely full, now there wasn’t even enough left for it to spill out over the rim despite the fact that it was laying on its side. There wasn’t a drop spilled on the floor. Frank had swallowed almost all of it. 

Suddenly, Frank’s convulsions stopped and Gerard let out a pained cry, dropping his head down onto the boy’s shoulder. He didn’t know what to do to help and even though his mother was saying something about an ambulance coming—even though more voices were now calling out all around him—all Gerard could hear were the sounds of Frank retching, throwing up some of the cleaner onto the floor in front of them. 

Then it sounded as if Frank were trying to form words—moaning and whimpering in a way that almost sounded like talking. 

“I love you, Baby,” Gerard whispered, nuzzling the boy’s damp neck as he lay limp against his chest. He prayed the words got through, that if Frank did die he knew he was loved even in his lowest moment. “I love you so much.”


	74. Chapter 74

_Chapter 74_

Nothing felt real. To Gerard, it all felt like a dream—like some awful nightmare he couldn’t escape. He didn’t feel attached to his body, and any words spoken to him seemed whispered from a distance. The ambulance arriving, the paramedics tearing Frank out of his arms, even the ride to the hospital all seemed like memories from long ago—months ago, _years_ ago. The only things fresh in his mind were the screams of the sirens and garbled voices in between, like a movie that wouldn’t buffer and kept skipping. That was how it all felt. Too fractured and fragmented for him to make sense of anything that had happened.

Frank had been in bed beside him—curled up, warm, and safe—then he’d been upstairs, swallowing floor cleaner until his body went into convulsions and he physically couldn’t anymore. But why?

Why?

The question haunted him. A question he couldn’t ask Frank, even if he did recover from this. 

Was it because their dad had yelled at him? Was it because his phone got cracked? Or had it been a nightmare which woke him up—something to do with his mother that hurt him too much for him to bear on his own?

Or worse…

They’d made love before going to sleep, and now Gerard was terrified he’d missed some cue—some cry of pain—and had hurt his boyfriend irrevocably. Did he cause this? As far away as it all felt, Gerard was still in fear of that possibility. 

Did he do _this_ to Frank? Leave him helpless, unconscious, in an emergency room ICU? Hooked to machines and bags of medicine which served as his only remaining ties to life? 

“Gerard—the doctor’s coming back.” Three hard slaps to his arm were the only thing that got his attention, his mother signaling to him and pointing toward the man walking down the hall. 

Donna stood up to speak with him, but Gerard couldn’t pull himself up from the floor. There were more than enough chairs available, but he couldn’t sit still in them. He wanted to be as low to the floor as possible when the painful news was delivered.

Gerard had seen how much of the cleaner Frank had swallowed. He saw Frank’s face turn grey, his eyes go dark…

Frank was dead. He was dead. In this nightmare, Frank wasn’t going to be saved, no matter what the doctors tried. It was over, and Gerard was never going to know what had gone wrong.

A scratched car shouldn’t do this. Being told to go back to his room after interrupting a conversation shouldn’t have done this to Frank. Not now…not when he’d been getting better.

“He’s on a ventilator now,” the doctor said, his voice sickeningly calm—a practiced placidity that Gerard found so offensively insensitive he could’ve screamed at the man for it had he not already wrecked his voice shouting at his father. 

Even that episode he could only remember in small bursts. 

“You did this!” He’d screamed, over and over, pushing his father back against the kitchen counter each time the man tried to justify himself. 

“His condition is still critical, but we’ve transferred him to a room on the third floor for closer monitoring through the night. We’re doing the best we can to cleanse his system, but his stomach and esophagus have severe burns. Now we _can_ treat them, but recovery time is slow. If he makes it through the next few days, we’ll keep him sedated while the burns heal…”

The doctor just kept talking and talking, but all Gerard could cling to—all he could make sense of—was _if._

_If_ Frank made it through the night. _If_ he survived the next few _days,_ then they’d still keep him unconscious—in a state as close to death as he could come. 

Gerard just couldn’t handle that. He wanted Frank with him. He wanted to go back to when he’d come home and found Frank crying and he wanted to comfort him better, hold him more and just kiss him—not take things further, not send Frank the wrong message like he had. He would stay awake all night to make sure nothing happened to him.

Why couldn’t he have just done that? Why couldn’t he have just stayed awake and watched Frank like he meant to?

“I can allow you to see him for a few minutes right now, but not for long” the doctor continued. “The staff needs room to work, but you’re welcome to stay in this lounge or the hospital lobby as long as you need. We also have a partnership with the hotel across the street where you can get affordable rooms for the night—or as long as you need.”

“I…I’ll probably stay here tonight,” Donna said, looking from the doctor to Gerard who still hadn’t moved from his spot on the floor. He glanced at her only for a moment, then turned his eyes to Mikey who was seated in the chair beside him—staring at the doctor with red-rimmed eyes. “Gerard, you’ll…you’ll probably stay with me, right?”

“Yeah,” Gerard whispered after a moment. “I’m not leaving him here.”

( ) ( ) ( )

He couldn’t go in the room. Gerard managed one glance at the depressingly small form of his boyfriend in the cramped hospital room. All the wires and cables and machines hooked to Frank’s tiny body made the situation seem that much more dire and hopeless. He couldn’t face the reality that his boyfriend might actually die.

The shock was slowly wearing off and he was forced to confront the emotions that came with it. He’d failed Frank, and now the boy lay dying because Gerard was too weak to stay awake and protect him. 

“Gerard? Are you—”

“Just leave him alone, Mikey. He… He probably just needs a minute,” Donna said when Mikey started to come back out of the room. 

Gerard leaned against the wall outside the room, his head tilted back as he tried to make sense of the mess in his head. He didn’t want to stand out here and cry anymore, but he lacked the willpower to go into the room and face what he’d done. The shrill chirp of the heart monitor was enough to drive him mad…

He listened as his mother talked to Frank who couldn’t hear her. He couldn’t hear anyone. 

He was dead. He was as good as dead… No matter how many times she told him she was sorry and that they were going to “get him better,” he couldn’t hear her. He was alone, wherever he was, and her words of comfort didn’t reach him. 

Gerard let out a shaky sob and sank down onto the floor, burying his face in his knees and crossing his arms over his head to block out the light. How had it gotten this bad before he noticed?

It started with the fight and getting caught in a lie, but what triggered him? Gerard just didn’t know… Getting yelled at scared him, but he’d calmed down. They’d made love… 

They made love—then he went upstairs after Gerard fell asleep and poisoned himself.

Gerard had done all the stuff Frank liked… He kissed him the whole time and was as gentle as he could be. He didn’t rush anything, he didn’t ask Frank to do anything special. The only light was the dim desk lamp and Gerard hadn’t even made an attempt to really look down there to make Frank self-conscious. 

Why had he done this?

Why?

Gerard couldn’t get it out of his head. Frank looked so content underneath him as they’d had sex. He’d moaned and panted and held onto him so tightly. 

Maybe that was the clue.

He’d kept his arms wrapped around Gerard’s shoulders and wouldn’t let go, even after it was over. Gerard had just thought him affectionate and kissed him more…

He didn’t realize Frank was telling him goodbye.

“Gerard? Come on. It’s not so bad. He needs you.” His mother was at his side, pulling him up despite how hard he was shaking. 

She led him into the room and deposited him at Frank’s side. 

Not so bad… He had little more color in his skin than he had on the kitchen floor and his face was covered by the ventilator mask. Except for the steady rhythm of his chest, Frank was still. His eyes didn’t even move beneath their lids the way they did when he slept and Gerard would look over at him. 

Gerard didn’t know what to do except stare at him. He was afraid to reach over to stroke his hair—worried he’d strike one of the wires or tubes and cause damage—scared to hold his hand or squeeze his arm. 

He wanted to talk to him, but not in front of his family. He didn’t want his father or Mikey to overhear him whispering words of love or pleading for Frank to come back to him. Frank couldn’t hear anyway…

Before they were asked to leave by the nurse, Donna pushed harder for Gerard to say something—anything—to Frank. She dared to remind him that this could be his last chance to say anything to him at all, but Gerard couldn’t find words and remained too terrified to touch him.

He told Frank as he’d held him that he loved him. Frank had been alive then. He’d been awake then. If there was any chance Frank would hear him and understand, it would’ve been then—not now. Now, he was just a body.

A very weak, fleeting body. 

“Don, you should take Mikey back home. Gerard and I will stay here, and if anything happens I’ll call and let you know.”

“I don’t want to go home,” Mikey snapped. “I want to be with him. He’s my best friend!”

“I know, but you need rest—”

“I’m not leaving! Forget it! He’s my best friend!” Mikey screamed, his voice cracking. 

“Mikey, I know—I know, okay? But you need to go home. I’ll let you know if anything happens.”

Mikey kept arguing with her until their father cut in and told him to stop—that he was of no use to Frank and he needed to go home. 

Mikey glared at Don, but listened. He knew that his father had yelled at Frank and knew in his heart that it was getting yelled at that pushed Frank over the edge. If their father could just be kind to Frank, if he just made an attempt to understand how sensitive and damaged he really was, none of this would have happened. 

Gerard followed them out of the room, but instead of moving toward the lobby, he went to the small lounge instead—a private space reserved for families in mourning, waiting for bad news. It was another few minutes before his mother joined him after saying goodbye to Don and Mikey. 

Gerard was sitting on the floor when she came back, and he ignored her attempts to coax him into a chair. He felt safer on the ground. He felt more connected to Frank when he was on the ground…

He tilted his head back against the wall and made to go to sleep.

( ) ( ) ( )

Donna stared down at her bowl of soup, unable to eat even though she skipped her last three meals. Frank’s father was sat in the seat across from her at the small diner, looking equally disinterested in his meal. She’d called and told him about the accident with Frank the night it happened and he’d hurried to reach his son’s side. He’d arrived around six the next morning and had sat in the small lounge with her and Gerard until the doctors let them visit with Frank again.

Gerard didn’t come, of course, but Frank’s father leapt at the chance. Donna stayed outside the room as the man spoke to his unconscious son, and only came in after the man invited her to join him. After the visit, Frank’s father went to the hotel across the street where he rented a room to get some space—some time alone to come to terms with what had happened. 

He came by the hospital again around five that night when they were allowed to visit with Frank again. Gerard came in that time, but stood in the corner of the room staring at Frank with so much sorrow that Frank Sr. would have had to have been blind not to notice. 

“So…your oldest boy found him then? Gerard?” Frank Sr. asked as he picked at the sandwich on his plate. 

“Yes,” Donna said, her already poor appetite all but disappearing at the memory of Gerard on her kitchen floor, holding onto the boy and crying. 

“Frank talks about him all the time. Every other word out of his mouth is what Gerard thinks or Gerard says.” It didn’t sound bitter or like an accusation. Donna knew that the man had picked up on Gerard’s demeanor, and there was no mistaking Frank’s fondness for Gerard. 

“Yes,” Donna repeated, at a loss for what else to say. The man was in a powerful position now. If he wanted Frank—if Frank even pulled through—the state would probably hand him over readily now that Donna’s family had failed to protect him. If he wanted Gerard locked up in jail for what he and Frank had together, he could make it a reality.

The doctors already questioned her about Frank’s relationships, unable to ignore (they’d said) the obvious signs of sexual activity. She told them he had a boyfriend and that she knew they had sex—she lied. She lied about warning Frank against having a relationship like that so young, but confessed that would never actively seek to stop the relationship since Frank had had so much trouble coming to terms with his mother’s abuse. They said they understood and asked no more questions—not even pressuring her for a name. 

“They’re close, aren’t they? Frankie and your boy?”

“Yes…”

“Guess it makes sense he wouldn’t trust girls after what Linda did.” He said it as if it were a confession. 

“Why did you leave him with your wife? You had to have known what she was capable of,” Donna said, grasping at straws to change the conversation. Frank’s father didn’t seem to be out for blood, but she knew that if Frank died, the man was going to blame anyone he could—especially the older man who was preying on his child. 

“I thought it would snap her out of it,” he said, staring at his plate and shaking his head. “I thought…she’d get used to him and start acting like a mother. I planned to go back. I really did, but… Linda’s a trip. My wife’s a psychopath and I’m a lousy father…”

“Can I ask… I just know Linda’s very ill and Frank is ill—what was she like before?”

“Linda? Oh, God. She was an angel.” He leaned back in his seat, shaking his head. “A little sheltered, sure, but a good girl. Never kissed anyone before, never had a boyfriend before. She thought I was some kind of knight in shining armor, come to save her from her mom’s house. Then we got married and she started to get…needy. I know how you women get and I expected it from her to some extent but _this…_ She would call my office every hour. Every _single_ hour. And if I didn’t pick up, she’d call my boss—just to make sure I was still there. She never had anything to say either. Not one single thing. She didn’t make stuff up, she just ‘needed to know where I was.’ Then, every night, it was the same thing: ‘Frank, do you love me?’, “Frank, why don’t you like me anymore?’”

Donna looked down at her soup again, feeling a sharp bolt go through her stomach. All Frank ever thought about was if someone still liked him—still loved him. 

“I thought it would be different when we had the baby—when Frank was born. I thought she’d be happy to have a baby, but…that’s when it went wrong.”

It went wrong, and he left Frank with her, Donna thought. She’d heard Linda speak about it in court, about how much she hated her baby and tried to kill him, then she heard Frank’s father say he thought leaving him with the mad woman was a good idea. 

“I loved Linda… I didn’t want to think she was capable of the things she was doing. I thought she just needed time to bond with Frank and not me…”

He wanted to get away, Donna thought. He didn’t care who he hurt, because when he left he didn’t have to deal with a crying baby or a wife who turned out to be something other than the “angel” he’d thought she was.

“I never thought she’d abused him… I didn’t think it would end up like _this._ ”

“We thought he was getting better. Don’s been teaching him to drive and he’s been anxious, but we thought he was okay. Gerard…Gerard keeps an eye on him.” She was reluctant to mention Gerard, but he was a part of Frank’s life. If Frank didn’t pull through, his father deserved to know the truth about who he’d been. 

“Gerard…he’s, what, twenty-five? Twenty-six?”

“Twenty-four,” Donna said, looking down at her bowl. “Just turned twenty-four two weeks ago.”

“He’s a bit old to be messing around with Frank,” Frank Sr. said, his voice stern.

“I tried to stop it. Frank…he lost it when I tried to talk to him about it when I found out. He can’t handle getting in trouble and Gerard…Gerard’s his happy place. He’s the only person who knows how to get him to calm down.”

“Except this time.”

“Except this time,” Donna repeated, in complete agreement. Everyone failed Frank the night before last. Everyone.

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard was able to take two weeks off work as he waited and waited endlessly for any signs of progress. After two weeks when Frank was still unconscious—kept unconscious now by medications to spare him the agony of his internal injuries—Gerard had to leave him. He had to go back to work—back to the Spend N Save that reminded him with every aisle of his boyfriend.

He wanted to quit, but he couldn’t. He wanted to take care of Frank, and if he let his life fall apart while Frank was healing, the boy would have nothing but misery when he woke up. Gerard wanted him to come back to stability—so he wouldn’t feel guilty.

Gerard sighed and looked over his shoulder at Frank’s bed. He was off the ventilator, able to breathe on his own, but was still hooked up to oxygen to help him as much as possible. He was always heavily sedated and the closest he ever came to lucidity was a twitch of the finger or an occasional whine. 

Gerard’s heart leapt each and every time he heard Frank make a sound. He wanted to hear him speak again. They were never apart more than a few hours and going _weeks_ without hearing anything was torture. Going six days before hearing Frank was going to survive for certain had been torture…

He let out a sigh and turned back to the whiteboard on the wall beneath the small, clunky television hanging on the wall. It was meant for nurses to leave messages or for doctors to draw out diagrams, but Gerard had taken over it. Every day he drew a new picture for Frank—making them as complex as he could, never sparing a detail. Sometimes he’d let Mikey add to the picture since his brother was just as worried about Frank and desperate to contribute to his wellbeing in any way he could. 

Mikey was the one who decided Gerard should take a picture of the drawings with Frank’s phone so he would be able to see them when he came to and would know that no day passed that he wasn’t on Gerard’s mind.

His phone seemed so lonely, anyway. The crack in his screen drove Gerard mad as he stared at it the first night, trying to guess the passcode. It served as a reminder of that awful night and Gerard wished he could just buy Frank a new phone for when he woke up. Buy a new phone, make up a story, and act like there had been some accident and whatever memory Frank had of the truth were all bad dreams. Frank’s only texts were from Jamia, from before Mikey told her what happened, so Gerard made a point to text him several times a day whether he could answer the messages or not. 

As Gerard finished his sketch on the whiteboard, a city skyline behind a chain link fence, he heard Frank let out a soft whimper. Gerard immediately set the marker aside and hurried over to the bed. He grabbed Frank’s hand and cradled it, watching the boy’s face—hoping to see something other than pain. 

“Hi, Baby,” Gerard whispered, knowing Frank was kept too far under to hear him. 

Frank whined again, then his eyebrow started twitching and he shivered. 

“Are you cold?” Gerard asked, looking around the bed to make sure that the boy was still completely covered. “I’ll bring you a better blanket when I come tomorrow. I’ll make sure you’re comfy.”

He reached up to stroke Frank’s hair and kissed his forehead, lingering longer than he should have when Frank let out a quiet moan. 

Frank was becoming more and more responsive each day. Even sedated, his soul was still there and he was very much alive. His color had come back and his body was warm again. He was going to pull through. There was no telling how badly his nervous system or motor skills had been damaged by the poison, but Gerard hoped it would be minimal. Frank didn’t need more pain—he just needed love and a little more supervision.

“I have to go to work soon, Baby… I’ll come back tomorrow with that blanket. I’ll miss you.”

Frank sighed again and Gerard kissed the top of his head one last time. 

“I love you, too,” Gerard whispered. “So much…”


	75. Chapter 75

_Chapter 75_

Gerard lay in Frank’s bed even though the boy had always spent his nights in Gerard’s. He just wanted to feel closer to Frank—closer to the love of his life. Being separated for so long was making him more and more aware of how desperately he needed the boy. The visits to the hospital just made him feel that much more alone, yet missing one visit—one lone visit—for the sake of a work conference in the city had ruined him for two whole nights.

He’d spent the next visit sobbing over Frank’s bed while one of the nurses watched him suspiciously. There were no doubts in the staff members’ minds who Frank’s true boyfriend was, but they had no evidence besides Gerard’s desperate pleas for their patient to get better.

Frank would every now and again twitch a finger or sigh, but that was as responsive as he became. For so long Gerard waited…

The pain just became too much. 

Eight weeks. 

Eight weeks of nothing.

Gerard was beginning to fear that Frank was never coming back. He’d left them all for good, only his body left behind as a cruel reminder. Gerard didn’t want Frank dead, but that looked to be where things were going. For a long time his coma was medically induced—now, however, Frank was trapped there in the dark on his own. 

Gerard just hoped, wherever his mind had wandered, Frank wasn’t scared—wasn’t hurting.

They said the burns had healed in his stomach and throat. They said he should be feeling better…

Should be, but wasn’t. 

Gerard pulled Frank’s blanket closer to his face, trying to catch even the smallest bit of Frank’s scent from the fabric, but it had all gone away. All he could smell was himself and Zoe. Tomorrow, he thought, he’d take the blanket he’d draped over Frank at the hospital to help keep him warm and replace it with a fresh one. He’d tell the staff he was taking the old blanket home to be washed, but he’d just keep it with him—hopeful to smell something other than sterile hospital air.

( ) ( ) ( )

Donna looked at the calendar on the kitchen wall, nailed beside the microwave. Gerard wrote his schedule on it, something he never used to do before, and insisted his parents help him remember when he was supposed to go to work—and make sure he went. He used to be able to get himself up for work, get himself dressed and fed and off to work. 

Now, now that Frank was in the hospital with little sign of life, Gerard couldn’t even set an alarm without being prompted. He’d regressed to the way he had been in adolescence—a quiet, sullen recluse. 

Donna looked at the calendar, then turned to look at the clock. Gerard needed to be at work in thirty minutes and she’d heard no sounds of life or movement downstairs since twelve o’clock and it was half-past four.

Sighing, she turned toward the stairwell and, after clipping on the light, started down the steps only to find Gerard curled up in Frank’s bed—sound asleep—with tears drying on his cheeks. 

It broke her heart to see him that way. She’d believed that she’d seen him at his worst in high school when bullies had driven him to cut and stay up late writing his sad poetry and lyrics, or sketching out drawings of his pain and hatred.

Now she was looking at something darker—something far worse. 

Gerard wasn’t working through this pain with artwork. He wasn’t working through anything—he was merely existing. Wallowing in it. Dying from it.

“Gerard.”

He gave no motions.

“Gerard, honey, you’ve got work,” Donna said, stepping over to the bed and shaking him by his shoulder.

Gerard moaned and rolled over, wiping at his face as he squinted against the light.

“What?—What do you want?” He moaned, sniffing loudly and shaking the hair out of his eyes.

“You have to be at work in half an hour. You’ve gotta get dressed, Gerard. Do you want me to make you something to eat on your drive in?”

“What? No. I’m not going to work,” Gerard groaned, rolling over so his back was to her as he pulled the blankets up to his mouth again.

“Gerard, you can’t take any more time off. You have to get up,” Donna said, feeling every bit as helpless as she had when Frank had been lying on the kitchen floor, dying in front of her. Gerard was in the exact same state, only there was no poison in his blood—just his mind and his heart.

“No! I’m not going.”

“Gerard… You have to. You’re going to lose your job.”

“I don’t care! Fuck that place! People are gonna steal shit whether I’m there or not!”

“Don’t yell at me—”

“Just get out of my room! Leave me alone—I said I’m not going. I don’t _care_ if they fire me! It doesn’t matter! Leave me alone… Just leave me alone.”

“I know things are hard right now, but you can’t just lay in bed. Frank wouldn’t want that—”

“Don’t!” Gerard snapped, sitting up abruptly and scowling at her. “Don’t talk about him—don’t bring him into this. You don’t know what Frank wants.”

“Maybe not the way you do, but I know it would hurt him very much to see you like this. He loves you. He wouldn’t want you to lose your job over him.”

“Then maybe he shouldn’t have fucking drank the floor cleaner!” Gerard yelled, tears coming to his eyes again. “I’m not going to work. I don’t care if they fire me. I’m not going.”

“Gerard—”

“Leave! I want to sleep! Just let me fucking sleep.” Instead of rage, she heard pain in his voice. It was the only thing that kept her from striking him, or yelling back at him that he needed to grow up and accept his responsibilities. He couldn’t lay in bed his whole life. He couldn’t live in her basement forever…

But she couldn’t kick him out now. 

Gerard was dying—slowly wasting away as he waited for his boyfriend to come back to him, eaten away by guilt and shame and confusion. She knew Gerard felt responsible for what had happened—because he hadn’t woken up when Frank had snuck off, because he hadn’t noticed his sorrow, because he hadn’t gotten upstairs in time.

“Alright. Get some sleep. I’ll save some dinner for you and put it in the fridge, okay?”

“Fine,” Gerard whispered, curling tighter into the blankets until all but his black hair had disappeared inside of them. 

Donna stared at him a moment longer, feeling she may start to cry as well. She hadn’t lost one son when Frank hadn’t woken up after the drug regiment ended—she lost two—and there was nothing that could take that pain away.

( ) ( ) ( )

“Have you gone to see him at all?” Jamia asked, picking at her lunch. School had let out for the summer and they’d gotten together to eat at a fast food place in town.

“Not really,” Mikey muttered. “It’s all the same anyway. I mean, his condition never changes. Gerard says he whispers sometimes, but I think he’s just losing it.”

“It’s sad,” Jamia mumbled, looking up from her half eaten burger long enough to meet Mikey’s gaze. “Do they know if he’ll ever wake up?”

“He was supposed to when they took him off the medications, but he just…doesn’t. He tried to kill himself. Makes sense he wouldn’t want to wake up.” Mikey pushed his tray away—uneaten burger and fries and all—and stared across the room at the windows beyond the other guests in the restaurant. It was sunny and bright outside, finally warm, but to him it may as well have been raining.

Many times since he’d first became friends with Frank, he’d had to talk the boy down. Tell him that his mother didn’t _really_ want him dead or that his situation really wasn’t so hopeless. Sometimes it was exhausting and frustrating—he never actually believed Frank would do it.

Even when he’d heard Frank had tried to drink bleach the first time, he hadn’t wanted to admit it was true. It was all for attention, right? That’s what his father always said. Frank pulled stunts like that to get attention, to prove people actually cared.

But when he walked down into the kitchen that night and saw Frank convulsing, saw the empty bottle beside him, saw Gerard crying and begging him to keep his eyes open, Mikey knew the truth. He knew Gerard was overwrought with guilt because of what happened, but Mikey was wallowing in it, too. 

He never bothered to give Frank’s pain the consideration it deserved. He acted like it didn’t matter—ignored it when Frank was too depressed to even practice guitar with him. Sometimes going so far as to guilt Frank into practicing with him. 

If he could, he would take it all back. He never meant to hurt Frank. He didn’t say it out loud, but he loved him—Frank was his brother, too. 

He’d been hurt and even a bit repulsed when he’d learned Frank had gotten so close with Gerard, but not he hated himself even for that. At the time, he’d been jealous and irritated that Frank would want to become better friends with Gerard, convinced that Frank couldn’t possibly be looking for love with Gerard. 

“How is Gerard handling it?” Jamia asked, her voice soft as though she knew how sensitive Mikey was to the subject of them being together.

“I think he’s going to be in the hospital next,” Mikey confessed. “He’s not… He’s not doing good at all. He misses work at least once a week and they told him, you know, corporate or whoever, they told him they’d be lenient but they’re losing faith in him,”

“That’s not good,” Jamia said, shaking her head.

“I know. If he gets fired, he’s not going to have any reason to get up at all. He sleeps all day. That’s all he does besides work. If he gets fired…I don’t see him pulling through.”

“It’s really awful,” Jamia murmured. “I hope Frankie pulls though.”

“No kidding,” Mikey whispered, staring at his plate—having lost his appetite. 

( ) ( ) ( )

“I hate doing this to you. I know you’ve been going through a hard time, but…as it stands now, I think we both know there’s nothing else to be done.”

Gerard sighed as he listened to the recording. He hadn’t meant to miss work this time. He really hadn’t. He’d overslept. No one even bothered trying to wake him and he honestly couldn’t blame them.

He just didn’t wake up…

“Maybe we can bring you back for the next quarter, but for the time being, we’re going to have to let you go. You can call me or human resources if you have any questions. I really hate doing to this to you, Gerard. You’re a good employee and I hope things get better for you. Goodbye.” 

That was it. 

It was over. 

He’d worked his way up to asset protection only to be fired—only to get himself fired. 

Gerard set his cell phone down on his nightstand and then laid back on his mattress. He wanted to say he was devastated or at least hurt, but he really couldn’t feel much besides disappointment.

He knew that if Frank woke up, he would be hurt worse knowing Gerard had lost his job over him. He would never forgive himself…

Gerard could just imagine it now, how sad and miserable Frank would be—and it was his own fault. It was his fault for not being strong enough or brave enough to put on a mask and take his ass to work like a responsible adult. He was too pathetic. He was too lost without Frank by his side.

It proved so difficult to get up knowing the only way he would see Frank’s face was if he drove thirty minutes to the hospital, and even then he was met only by a vacant face.

Sometimes Frank moved. Sometimes he sighed or whimpered. Once Gerard was certain he’d heard Frank whisper something more under his breath, but Gerard was now giving up that hope as merely wishful thinking. 

Gerard pulled himself out of the bed—Frank’s bed—and moved over to his desk. In a desperate attempt to fight his way out of the darkness, Gerard had brought out his old sketches and tried making new ones. They were all sketches of Frank, his attempt to capture the boy’s life and likeness before he’d swallowed the poison, but now his memory was fading at it grew harder and harder to draw anything besides Frank asleep. Frank with his eyes closed and his lips flat—no smile or smirk or giggle. 

It had been two months since he’d heard Frank’s voice or had seen him smile.

Two months…

A torture.

( ) ( ) ( )

He felt coldness first and pain second—a sharp sting in the back of his throat that grew worse and worse as he tried to whimper it away. His eyes burned, too, but attempting to open them made the ache that much worse.

He tried lifting an arm, hoping to clear away whatever it was that was attached to his face and no doubt causing the burning pain, but all he could do was twitch his fingers.

That was when he realized he couldn’t even close his jaw all the way. There was something in his mouth, and that was enough to get his eyes to snap open despite the burn.

It was all in vain though. He must’ve gone blind since all he could see was blackness.

Dead, he realized. He was dead.

Maybe what was lodged in his mouth was just his tongue, dried out and hardened with time. He was dead—a soul trapped in a corpse that could neither move nor speak. And for how long? For all eternity?

If this was the Hell his mother warned him about, where was the fire? Weren’t there at least supposed to be demons and other damned souls for company?

As he began to panic, Frank heard a shrill beep cut through the darkness. It confused him—disoriented him—as he tried to make sense of where he was and what was happening. The sound seemed to come from all around.

He wanted to scream for help, but his mouth just couldn’t move. With more effort, he realized he could turn his head back and forth, but it did nothing to dislodge whatever was in his throat or covering his face. 

The beeping came again—then again and again and again.

It was the only thing in this dark, shadowy world Frank could make sense of and it offered him no comfort. 

He was afraid. He was terrified.

All he remembered was a tree. He remembered sitting by a tree and now he was here—lost in the dark and unable to run to save himself. 

Again, he tried to make a noise, but whatever was in his mouth prevented him from making much noise. 

Somehow, though, someone must’ve heard him because a bright, yellow light shot into the dark chasm in which he lay—blinding him and forcing his eyes to close. He could feel his entire body begin trembling. 

“Well, good morning, Frank. It’s about time you joined us.”


	76. Chapter 76

_Chapter 76_

Donna rolled her eyes and let out a frustrated groan when she recognized the name on the upper corner of the envelope she’d pulled from her mailbox. It was from the hospital where Linda was kept and Donna had no patience for anything the woman had to say.

Even so, it piqued her interest when the letter was addressed to her and not Frank. For once, it seemed, the woman wasn’t trying to get in contact with her child. For whatever reason, she wanted to speak to Donna and though Donna didn’t particularly care for what the woman would have to say, she took the envelope with her to her seat at the kitchen table and started to open it.

_Mrs. Way,_

_It has come to my attention that my child is sick. No one will tell me what is wrong with him, but I understand that it is serious._

Donna groaned again and almost crumpled the paper into a ball then and there. She didn’t know who had been speaking with the woman, but she resented it. Linda was to have no contact with Frank, no knowledge of what he was doing—not capable of sticking her nose into his suicide attempt. Donna could only imagine that all the woman had to say was “good for the sinner—he deserves death” or something equally unsympathetic. It was out of sheer curiosity that she continued reading after composing herself.

_When he was young, my son always got sick. He’s prone to ear infections and sinus infections, and I understand that it costs a lot of money to take him to the doctor’s office. I am not permitted to send money to you, but I know what works better for him than drugs._

_My child enjoys citrus teas and if you add a tablespoon of honey, it takes the soreness out of his throat in no time at all. Make sure he drinks about three cups a day and he’ll feel better._

Donna tilted her head to the side in confusion, and flipped the letter over to read the signature on the back. Yes. It was signed by Linda Iero, but the words were so unlike her. 

She turned the page back to the front and skimmed the rest of the page. It said nothing about sin or her hate for Frank. All it spoke of were medical issues he’d had and ways she’d tried to make them better—actually tried to make them better. She didn’t even talk about him overreacting. She just spoke about Frank as though he were a small child.

_If he needs tissues, buy him he ones with lotion or else he’ll turn to wiping his nose on his sleeve. He’s got sensitive skin and he’s prone to rashes if it gets too dry._

Whatever they’d done for her in the institution seemed to be working, though she never mentioned Frank by name. She did, however, express her concerns—her wishes. If he stayed sick for too long, as it appeared to her that he had, Donna would do best to pray for his recovery. Where earthly remedies failed, divine mercy could prevail. 

“Don?” Donna called, not looking over her shoulder at the living room where her husband sat watching a Western movie on TV.

“What?”

“Come here a moment. I want you to look at something.” 

Her husband let out a loud groan as he got up from his recliner and came to her side.

“What?” He asked, looking over her shoulder at the letter.

“It’s from Frank’s mother. Look at it.” She handed it to her husband who cringed the same way she had when she’d seen it.

“Oh, God. What does that woman want now?” He muttered the words of the letter aloud to himself, but paused as soon as the words of hate he expected were replaced instead by tips on how to help her child feel better. “Is this a joke?” He asked.

“No, I don’t think so,” Donna said, taking the letter back and reading over the last paragraph.

_If you find you have the time, please write back to let me know if he begins to recover. I may be able to think of something else that might help him if he continues to remain ill._

_Yours Truly,_

_Linda Iero_

“Who the hell told her he’s sick?” Don asked.

“I don’t know—she doesn’t say. Apparently they didn’t tell her what made him sick.”

“They need to keep that shit to themselves. We don’t need her calling all the hospitals and trying to get in contact with him. If he ever wakes up, we don’t need her getting in his head two minutes later.”

Since Frank had been put in the hospital, Don hadn’t been himself. Things in the home had been tense and everyone—even Donna—had a hard time hiding their irritation with him. If he hadn’t yelled at Frank, if he could have concealed his dislike for the boy a little better, none of this would have happened. Gerard would still have his job, Mikey’s GPA wouldn’t have dropped a point and a half in a month and a half… Their dog wouldn’t have lost close to ten pounds—from losing table scraps from her favorite human and the loss of appetite that came with her depression. 

He seemed remorseful, though. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined Frank would really take his words to heart. He never thought the boy really had it in him to take his own life. For so long he’d blinded himself to the possibility—believing all Frank wanted was attention, that he would do enough to hurt himself but never kill himself. But when he, too, walked into the kitchen that night and witnessed the boy gripped by convulsion, he couldn’t lie to himself anymore. 

Frank _was_ that sensitive. He _was_ that broken.

“She seems to be getting better though,” Donna said, folding the letter back up and replacing it in the envelope. 

“It doesn’t matter. She’s never seeing him again. She’s the reason any of this even happened.”

Donna sighed, but didn’t rise to the argument. Don didn’t want to admit that what happened was his own fault. That if he’d just controlled his anger, Frank would still be in their house—smiling his nervous smile and cozying up to any scrap of affection he could get.

Before Don could say anything else, the phone rang and Donna hurried to answer to answer it, eager to escape the conversation before it could turn to an argument.

“Hello?” Donna said, looking out the window as she held the phone to her ear.

“Is this Donna Way?” Asked the soft, female voice on the other side of the line. 

“Yes,” she answered, her heart starting to pound. It was a nurse’s voice. She’d become familiar with them after calling so many times, pleading for updates when Frank was supposed to have woken up. 

It had been two and a half months now and she feared that the calls could only bring bad news. He wasn’t responsive, even if he sighed or twitched his fingers now and then. He wasn’t waking up. He was brain dead and the state had decided the plug needed to be pulled. That was what Donna feared most.

“I’m calling with an update about your son Frank,” the woman said.

“Okay,” Donna said, trying hard to analyze the woman’s tone of voice—desperate to prepare herself for the bad news that was inevitably about to come. She turned away from the window and spotted Mikey in the doorway with Zoe standing at his side. He heard the phone and knew the only people who called the house were hospital staff members. 

“We wanted to let you know that this morning around three he regained consciousness.”

“He…He did?” Donna asked, letting out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. 

“Yes. He’s fallen back asleep a couple of times since then, but he seems to be awake and responsive right now if you’d like to come see him.”

Donna couldn’t keep the dumb grin off her face, relief flooding her so rapidly she felt tears bite the backs of her eyes. 

“Y-Yeah. We’ll come as soon as we can,” Donna said.

“He is having some memory issues, however; and our doctors just want you to avoid anything that might trigger him or cause stress. He’s coherent and he understands some things, but he gets confused easily and he’s very sensitive right now.”

“Okay,” Donna said, nodding even though the woman couldn’t see her. “Yeah—We won’t say anything, or… Yeah—I’m going to get ready to go. Thank you.” Donna could hardly keep her thoughts straight as she rushed the nurse off the phone.

“Was that the hospital?” Don asked once Donna set down the phone.

“Frank’s awake,” she said, turning to him and hugging him tight.

“He is?” Mikey asked.

“Yes—Go tell Gerard. We’ve got to get ready to go see him while he’s up.” 

Mikey hurried toward the basement stairs, calling Zoe after him.

( ) ( ) ( )

Mikey couldn’t even try to contain his excitement, he switched on the basement light as stormed down the stairs—Zoe chasing after him—but his good mood shifted as soon as he reached the bottom of the steps. 

He could hear Gerard snoring softly, so he knew his older brother was still alive, but he couldn’t ignore the red mess on his desk directly across from the bottom of the stairs. There was a bloody razorblade tossed on one of Gerard’s open sketchbooks and smears of blood on several pages as well as half a dozen wadded up tissues. 

All of the good feelings Mikey had had—all of the hope and joy and relief—abandoned him in an instant. Gerard was cutting again and it looked to be severe. Mikey had seen the scars before, a long time ago, but had never seen the razors or blood spatters.

It looked as though Gerard had been cutting at his desk, but sliced too deep. He surrounded himself with tissues, but gave up trying to clean it off and went to lay down in bed. The sheets, too, had blood smeared on them but Gerard was buried in the blankets so Mikey couldn’t see his wounds.

“Gerard?” Mikey called. His brother didn’t even twitch. “Gerard!” He tried again, this time his stern tone causing Zoe to hurry over to the bed to see if something was wrong with her rescuer.

This time, Gerard groaned and shifted around in his bed.

“What?” He snapped, sniffling and moving to pull his pillow over his head.

“You have to get up. We’re going over to the hospital.”

“What time is it?—I’ll go later,” he mumbled. “My head fuckin’ hurts.”

“Frank woke up,” Mikey said, staring at one of the dark smears of blood in his brother’s sheets. He took it too far last night. Whatever he’d done to himself had been severe and Mikey was torn between keeping his silence—hoping that seeing Frank awake and alive cured Gerard’s agony—and running upstairs and telling their mother what he’d seen. Gerard needed help. If he was cutting this much, he needed helped…

“He…He did?” Gerard asked, sitting up abruptly. His hair was a mess and he had a little touch of blood on his cheek, almost fitting of the sleepless, crazed look in his eyes.

“Yeah… Mom’s getting ready to take us over,” Mikey said, his eyes trailing down Gerard’s body to his exposed arm. He couldn’t see any cuts or marks.

As soon as Gerard saw him staring, he let out a nervous huff and looked around the bed and the room.

“Just… Just go upstairs. I’ll get cleaned up.”

“Okay,” Mikey said, passing one last glance toward the desk before hurrying back upstairs—trying to erase the images from his mind.

Frank was awake, he reminded himself. Frank was awake and that meant things were going to start getting better.

( ) ( ) ( )

It took Frank a long time to make sense of what was happening. When he’d woken up to the dark, he’d been frightened and that fear only grew worse as all the medical staff descended upon him at once. Needles were put in his arms, tubes were removed from his throat, wet rags were smeared over his face. He tried to speak, but his voice was raw and his throat burned for _hours_ before they gave him something for relief. 

He knew why he was here—and that was why it scared him so much when they told him his mother was on her way.

He was here _because_ of her, because she’d beaten him severely for his sinful thoughts. He begged for the nurses to change their minds, to keep her out, but they just shushed him and told him not to worry.

He was just confused, they said. He was having trouble remembering things because of his trauma. 

Why they kept saying that when he _knew_ what happened, when he kept telling them _over and over_ what his mother had done to him in hopes they’d show sympathy and keep her away, he couldn’t comprehend.

The nurse brought him another cup of water when his mother arrived at the hospital, but she still wouldn’t listen to his pleas for his mother to be sent away.

“Frankie…what’s your mom’s name?” The nurse asked, her tone gentle yet a tad bit condescending—as if Frank were a little child she wanted to reason with.

“Linda,” Frank said, sniffing before taking a sip of water, hoping it would keep his sore throat at bay. 

“See, Frankie? _Linda’s_ not here. Donna is. You know Mrs. Way.” 

“M-Mrs. Way?” Frank asked, his head starting to hurt. He nestled down against the pillow behind his back and watched nurse with cautious eyes as she straightened his bedding for the millionth time and checked his IVs. 

“Yes. Your foster mother. She’s here with your brothers and you foster dad. You don’t need to be scared,” she said, smiling at him.

“I… I live with Mikey’s mom?” Frank asked, trying hard to make sense of the whole mess. He couldn’t remember anything… He remembered being beaten for giving into sin. He remembered trying to walk to school and not being able to make it. He fell down on the sidewalk and stared up at the branches of a tall tree…now he was in the hospital with doctors and nurses telling him—essentially—that none of that had happened. 

“Don’t worry, Frank. It’s going to be okay,” the nurse said, patting his shoulder. “I promise there’s nothing for you to be afraid of. No one’s going to hurt you, alright?”

“Okay,” Frank whispered, not entirely reassured. He kept his eyes on the door and chewed his lips as he waited and waited to catch sight of someone familiar for the first time in what felt like an eternity. 

No one here understood just how frightening it was to wake up in a strange bed surrounded by strange faces—no memory of how he’d gotten there in the first place. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard swallowed hard, trying to work up the nerve to walk the next few feet down the hall to Frank’s room. He’d been there the day before—drew on the whiteboard like he had every day before—but today the task seemed so daunting. Frank was awake now, but he had memory impairment that was quite possibly temporary as a response to the shock, but could also be permanent. He was so afraid he’d go into that room and Frank would have no idea who he was like some scene from a bad soap opera. 

What would he do then? There was nothing about him left that would attract the boy. He had nothing. He’d let himself fall into ruin in Frank’s absence and he was no longer even worthy of his affections.

Gerard took a deep breath and forced himself to take the last few steps toward the hospital room, bracing himself for whatever he saw inside. 

He wished he didn’t have to go alone, but his mother and father wanted to stay behind first to talk to the doctor about Frank’s condition and what needed to be done for him. Mikey volunteered to stay back, agreeing with their mother when she said Gerard deserved to be the first to see him. Of them all, he had to be the one who loved Frank the most.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank tried to hide behind the rim of his cup as he anxiously watched the door, his hand trembling uncontrollably the whole time. There was very little water left for him to drink, and he was trying to take the smallest sips possible to make it last, not sure what to expect when his _new_ mom walked through the doors.

Only the first person to step into view wasn’t Mrs. Way—it was Mikey’s older brother. It was Gerard. Alone. 

Frank held his breath a moment, staring almost fearfully at him. He’d only seen Gerard a handful of times that he remembered and they hadn’t been pleasant. He caught Frank stealing the green beans and fruit cups and turned him over to his mother. 

But when Gerard flashed him a smile as he came in the room a little further, new images came to mind. Gerard smiling at him—blushing. Drunk, maybe? Kissing him.

Frank spluttered a little around the rim of the cup in his mouth, his eyes widening a little.

“You okay?” Gerard asked, licking his lips and coming to the bed a little faster. 

More and more images started to bombard him as he watched Gerard walk. Unlike the images of the tree he’d stared at when he had been laying on the sidewalk, these images didn’t seem so distant. He was seeing Gerard with a dog— _his dog._ Zoe. Her name was Zoe and Gerard bought her for him. 

And that wasn’t the only thing.

“Baby? Are you alright?”

As soon as Gerard was seated in the chair directly beside his bed, a much louder—forceful—image popped into Frank’s mind and wouldn’t leave. His eyes opened as wide as they could possibly go, feeling as if they might pop out of his skull, and he choked on his water again—spitting some out onto his chin and chest.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay? D-Do you need a nurse?” Gerard was staring at him with concern and affection, but all Frank could see was the awful image in his mind’s eye. 

Gerard. Naked. Under him on a bed. Frank could see _everything,_ and it was so difficult to look him in the eye with such sinful, lustful images in his head. 

Frank felt his cheeks burning, blushing a dark red as the shame hit him. He feared that somehow, Gerard could see in his mind and knew what he was remembering. At least, he hoped it was a memory. He really, really wanted it to be.

“G-Gerard?” Frank stammered, his voice trembling as much as his hands. 

“Yeah, Baby?” Gerard said, reaching out and taking the cup from Frank’s hand before he could spill it all over himself and really prove himself to be a fool. 

“A-Are…Are we dating?” Frank asked, hoping the question weren’t too insensitive or blunt. He didn’t remember, but he really wanted to know. It was probably stupid, but he didn’t have the capacity for forethought—to worry that if they weren’t, he just made himself sound like a creep.

“Wel…yeah,” Gerard answered, smiling a little nervously. His eyes looked really sad and Frank could tell he was worried about him. Someone was _actually_ worried about him. Someone cute like Gerard—like his boyfriend. He had a boyfriend!

“Oh wow,” Frank said, blushing harder and trying to bite back a laugh of surprise. 

Gerard was _cute._ He was _attractive!_ How Frank had managed to win him over, he would never ever know but he was so thankful. He hoped it would start making sense soon, but for the time being he was happy even with the confusion. 

“It looks like…that makes you happy,” Gerard said, smiling and showing all his tiny teeth. 

Frank felt like he was melting just looking at him. He didn’t know many things—like how he ended up in the hospital or why Gerard looked so worried—but he was certain that all he wanted at the moment was Gerard to come closer. He wanted Gerard to sit with him on the bed and put an arm around him. 

They were dating—Gerard said so—and couples held each other when one of them was hurt. 

“You really had me scared there for a minute, Baby. I didn’t think you knew who I was,” Gerard said, his smile faltering.

“I…I can’t forget you,” Frank said, trying hard not to stutter but failing when the sinful images played over in his mind again. He’d seen Gerard _naked._ His best friend’s older brother! _Completely_ naked! It was like a dream come true and he couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot even though his throat hurt and his stomach burned.

Frank took a risk and reached out his hand, grasping for Gerard’s. He let out an involuntary giggle when Gerard met him half way, but his voice was rough and the laugh came out a bit harsher than he’d intended. 

“Your hand is shaking really bad. Are you nervous?” Gerard asked, lifting Frank’s hand to his mouth and kissing his knuckles softly. 

“A-A little,” Frank confessed. He wished Gerard would kiss him on the mouth instead, but was too nervous to ask. Maybe he’d had a contagious sickness. Maybe Gerard wouldn’t want to kiss him.

( ) ( ) ( )

He was smiling. 

Gerard couldn’t understand how Frank could sit there and smile at him like nothing had ever happened. It had been two and a half months since he’d even seen what Frank’s eyes looked like, and just as long since he’d seen him smile—but it didn’t make sense to him.

When he walked in the room, Frank looked so concerned. He didn’t recognize Gerard right away and that was more than evident. Once he did remember him, though, he started blushing and he’d just gotten happier and happier from there. 

Gerard had spent weeks upon weeks in a living hell, dying a little more every day only to have Frank smile at him like nothing was even wrong. 

Somehow, it hurt him. Yes, he was flattered that Frank was really _that happy_ just to see him, and of course he was beyond elated that Frank had finally woken up, but it wasn’t right. It scared him. 

Frank was happy now because he couldn’t remember what landed him in the hospital in the first place. How was he going to react when he did remember? What if that smile disappeared and stayed gone?

Gerard felt guilty for not just appreciating it now that he had it. Frank just kept staring at him, giddy. Happy. And all Gerard could do was kiss his hand and tell him how happy he was to see him again. 

“You’re going to stay awake this time, right?” Gerard said, daring to stroke Frank’s messy hair. It was greasy and in desperate need of washing, but he would never tell Frank. Never ever. 

“I’m not even tired,” Frank said, his voice cracking as he spoke. It was rougher than it used to be, and Gerard hoped it was from disuse and not the acid he’d swallowed. 

“No?”

“Not even a little!” Frank said, giggling and kissing Gerard’s hand. 

Gerard smiled and him and finally leaned over for a kiss, letting his lips press innocently against Frank’s. It couldn’t last long—not with Frank giggling at him in his excitement.

Gerard realized then that it wasn’t the smile that was unnerving him—or the happiness. He just worried about how far Frank would drop when his memory came back. What if he was alone when it happened? What if he hurt himself when none of the nurses were watching?

He didn’t want this to be the last time he saw Frank smile. He wanted him to keep this innocence and blissful ignorance. 

He’d _never_ seen Frank this happy. It was like his entire soul was being bared to him. Gerard really wished it didn’t have to change.

“Gerard, what’s wrong?” Frank asked, his smile fading away. 

“What?” Gerard asked, refocusing his eyes and realizing in the same moment that he’d started crying. “Oh—sorry, I just… I’m sorry, Baby.” He leaned over and kissed Frank’s cheek before wiping his eyes. “I missed you. That’s all. I didn’t know if…if you were gonna get better.”

“Oh,” Frank said, looking at Gerard with worry and fear. “Was I really that sick?” 

“Yeah, but don’t worry about it, Frank. You’re better now. That’s all that matters,” Gerard said quickly, not wanting Frank to think too hard and remember. “I just want to see you smile. You’re so beautiful.”

The words were enough to get Frank to blush again, his mind far too receptive to the compliments. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t trying to negate them or deflect them. He liked Gerard and he loved getting his attention. Gerard just hoped that in the days to come, Frank would love him like he did before. He wanted nothing to have changed. He wanted to go back to the way it was in the beginning.


	77. Chapter 77

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In reading (Mama) to this point, it probably goes without saying, but this chapter has a slight trigger warning for sad Gerard.

_Chapter 77_

Frank cried when Gerard left his hospital room, even though he refused to admit it when the nurses came by to check if he was alright. He’d gotten to see Donna and Mikey who teased him about staying in a coma for two months to avoid taking his final exams and standardized tests. Donna fussed over him, smoothing his hair and wiping his cheek clean of a speck of dirt Frank was sure didn’t actually exist. He was sad when they left him alone—afraid to be on his own again until the next day when Gerard promised he’d come back.

Gerard looked like he was going to start crying again, too, when it came time to leave. He stayed back after Donna and Mikey left so he could give Frank a kiss goodbye, but no matter how tightly Frank had held onto him, Gerard still pulled away and left. 

Frank hated that loneliness that settled over him once Gerard was gone. Even if he promised to come back, the hours seemed so daunting. It was cold in this room and so unfamiliar. He wanted to be back in the basement with Gerard—he wanted to be under the blankets with his boyfriend, not alone with his thoughts.

All he could do without Gerard was sit there and wonder how he’d ended up in the hospital in the first place. No one would tell him, and the doctor insisted the memories would come back with time. It was frightening though, because Frank knew whatever had happened was bad. If he’d caught a virus or gotten into an accident, they would’ve just told him. At first he’d thought it was because of his mother, but now he knew that she’d been locked away for months—long before he ever landed in the hospital. 

Even so, nothing came to mind. Everything was just…hazy. Part of him really didn’t want to push through that fog. He didn’t want to make sense of it here alone. He wanted to be with Gerard—he wanted Gerard to tell him.

It was still such a fresh realization for him that Gerard was _his,_ all _his._ Never in his life had he been given anything he wanted. His mother was harsh, she was cold and didn’t care if he liked the clothes she bought him or the hairstyle she picked for him. He didn’t even get to pick what he had for dinner with her. His wants and needs didn’t matter. But now he had _Gerard._ How often was it that _anyone_ got to be with the man of their dreams?—let alone someone like Frank.

He knew he was no great catch. He was short and not the brightest, but for some reason Gerard still liked him. Gerard _loved_ him, and Frank could see how genuine that affection was in the man’s eyes. He just couldn’t believe it… How had he managed to catch the interest of someone like Gerard?

_How?_

Sitting alone in his hospital room wreaked havoc on Frank’s mind. He kept playing over and over in his mind all the times he’d seen Gerard in the Spend N Save—especially the day Gerard caught him stealing and his mother began beating him right there in front of his crush. Though Frank guessed Gerard wasn’t his crush then. He was terrified of Gerard—knowing that he could easily have made Frank’s punishment a lot worse had he threatened to press charges. Frank could’ve gone to jail or gotten his mother fined because of his theft.

Fortunately, Gerard was merciful. He even recruited Frank to help him catch the real crooks, then fed him fruit cups in the Spend N Save office. 

Frank sighed and shuffled down into his blankets, wishing they provided more warmth. He wanted Gerard… He just wanted to be close to Gerard—to the person who always kept him safe. 

He was still sniffling softly to himself when he heard a soft chirp come from the drawer of his hospital end table. It startled him at first, and it took him a moment to muster the courage to pull open the drawer, not sure what to expect.

When he saw that the only contents of the drawer were a cracked cell phone and a black charger, his fear drained away and he found himself smiling as he lit up the screen. The number of notifications was mind blowing for him. He expected one text—just a message from Gerard or Mikey—but he had over two hundred. Most were from Gerard and when Frank opened them, his eyes widened with shock. 

The most recent message read “I hope you’re feeling okay. I love you so much. I miss you,” and Frank quickly typed back that he missed Gerard too and loved him more than anything. As he waited for the reply, Frank scrolled up and looked at all the other messages. Most were simple I love yous and I miss yous, but there were some longer ones that caught Frank’s eye.

One stopping him in his tracks. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t catch you that night. I’m so sorry. If I could go back I would. I’d hold you tighter so this wouldn’t have happened. Please come back. Let me make it up to you. I won’t ever let you get hurt again. I promise. I need you. Please don’t leave me like this. I’M SORRY.”

Frank’s stomach tightened as he stared at the message. After a moment he scrolled past it, just to see if this was from before he was in the hospital, but four messages above it all said the same old same old “feel better,” “I miss you,” “I love you.”

He tried harder to remember what had happened—fearing now that Gerard had something to do with it—but nothing came. Not a single memory seemed to remain of that day at all. He couldn’t imagine any situation in which Gerard would hurt him, but he seemed to be harboring so much guilt that Frank was certain he had to be involved somehow. 

Just then Gerard sent another message, bouncing Frank’s thread of messages back down to the bottom. 

_Do you want me to bring you anything tomorrow? They said not to bring you food but I can get anything else,_ Gerard said.

_Just U :)_ Frank said in reply. Gerard sent him a heart, then offered to bring Frank sweaters to help keep him warm in the chilly hospital room. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard tried so hard to keep his composure, but it was impossible. Seeing Frank was supposed to make him feel better. He was supposed to be happy and relieved—and of course he was—but he was also terrified, somehow even more anxious than he had been when Frank had been unconscious.

Frank couldn’t remember much—and remembered nothing about what happened. Right now, he seemed happy and expressed his love for Gerard without any shame or hesitation. But what if that changed? What if he remembered something that made him fearful of Gerard or made him hate Gerard? 

He knew that the fight with Don had triggered Frank initially, but he’d _calmed down_ after that. He got quiet and they made love—then Gerard woke up to the horrible nightmare. He _had_ to have been the one who caused it. He was the one who missed a signal and hurt Frank. He was the reason Frank hurt himself.

It was his fault.

Everything was his fault.

Gerard sobbed as he dragged the razor across his thigh again, digging into an old scar and following it perfectly. One cut wasn’t enough. One was never enough. He had slit open his skin in three spots on both legs and watched the blood bead and ooze and pour down to his bed sheets—staining them more. The sight made him feel worse instead of better, filling him to the brim with shame and self-hatred. 

He didn’t deserve Frank. He didn’t deserve to have ever had the _chance_ to touch Frank. All he could offer was pain and malice. He was wicked—just like the boy’s mother—and had hurt him irrevocably. 

How was Frank ever going to trust anyone after what Gerard put him through? It was obvious Gerard had hurt him during their last time together. Even if Frank didn’t speak out about it, Gerard had still done something to hurt him enough that he’d wanted to kill himself. 

That was such a crushing weight to bear. 

He _loved_ Frank. He loved him _so much._

To know that he’d hurt him, and that their history together made Frank feel telling him he was in pain would change nothing, broke Gerard’s heart. How could he have done that to Frank? Hadn’t he been through _enough_ without Gerard torturing him too?

Gerard let out a cry of anguish and drew the razor back from his thigh and aimed for his wrist—his heart heavy with guilt and remorse. The first cut was shallow, only providing him with a sharp sting.

That wasn’t enough. That wasn’t enough to pay back what he’d done to Frank. 

Frank would remember eventually. Frank would know the truth and how would he look at Gerard then? With affection?—With love? No. He would feel frightened. He would feel hatred.

Gerard had failed him.

He had to pay for that. He couldn’t live with himself knowing that there was even the slightest chance he’d pushed Frank to the brink. 

Gerard brought the razor down again, this time with more conviction, and sliced deep into his wrist—as deep as he could go. The pain was immediate—burning and intense.

He gasped and dropped the razor from his hand, sending it clattering onto the floor at the foot of his bed. The blood bubbled up much faster than it had for his other cuts, turning quick to fast beads that poured down his arm as he stared at it in shock. 

“Shit,” he whispered, his voice shaking—as did every breath which followed. His fingers were starting to tingle and the blood just kept coming up faster and faster. Gerard cursed under his breath and looked around helplessly. There was nothing within reach but tissues to dab up the pooling blood, and they wouldn’t be enough. 

His entire forearm was streaked in blood and he could feel his pulse thudding through his elbow, down his arm to his wrist. White panic took over his mind and all he could do was sit and stare.

He should call for someone, shouldn’t he? But if he did, they’d take him to the hospital—put him on a psychiatric hold. Frank would find out and he’d be devastated. He’d blame himself—he’d hate himself. 

He couldn’t _do_ that to Frank!

But what choice did he have? It was either call for someone or bleed out. 

Gerard stared at the blood a moment longer, then grabbed the blanket beside him and started wiping at his arm as if he could wipe away the wound. When all he succeeded in doing was smearing the blood, Gerard tried something else and tied the blanket as tightly as he could around his forearm, just above the slice. He then wadded up his blanket further and pressed against the wound—trying to push it closed and applying pressure. 

His whole body had started shaking, and his breaths became heavy and labored. He started sobbing harder and leaned forward, pressing all of his weight against his wound in hopes it would stop. 

Living would hurt Frank, but dying would hurt him worse. 

He just couldn’t do anything right…

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank was sleeping soundly when his phone went off, jarring him out of his peaceful rest. At first he couldn’t figure out what the noise was. It startled him and his heart started pounding as he looked around his strange, unfamiliar hospital room. The bright light coming from his screen drew his attention, and he grasped for his phone with a shaky hand—almost dropping it as he tried to read the screen. 

“Gerard?” Frank said to himself, sniffing sleepily as he swiped to unlock the screen. “Hello?”

“Hi, Baby,” Gerard said. His voice sounded strange—not just sleepy—and that snapped Frank out of his haze.

“Are you okay?” Frank asked. 

“Yeah… Just tried. Just miss you is all.” His voice sounded distant, almost dreamlike.

“I-It’s late,” Frank said, shifting around in his bed to get comfortable again. 

“I know… I missed your voice is all. Haven’t heard it a long time, Baby.”

“Okay,” Frank whispered. He had a terrible sense of dread. Something was wrong, he just didn’t know what or how he could help.

“Are you okay, Frankie?”

“Yeah… Are—Are you?” Frank repeated.

“Yes. Just…missed your voice. I really love your voice, Baby.”

“Oh,” Frank said, still worried though he could hear a smile in Gerard’s voice. “You…you should send me a picture. I miss your face.” Maybe if he got a photo he would be able to see if Gerard was actually okay. Maybe he was drunk or something…a picture would show if his cheeks were flushed.

“Not tonight, Baby. It’s dark in my room. I’ll send you one in the morning. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Frank said softly. “You’re scaring me a little.”

“I’m sorry. I should just hang up. I’m sorry. I woke you up didn’t I?” Gerard started cursing to himself and Frank heard him sniff loudly as if he were fighting back tears. 

“Gerard? What’s wrong?” Frank asked. “Did Don say something?”

“No—No, it’s nothing like that. Don’t worry about it. I just miss you. I-I’ve missed you so much. I know I’m bothering you, I just…I needed to hear your voice. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Frank said. Something was wrong, but he realized Gerard was never going to tell him. There wasn’t much he could do about it either, being stuck in the hospital as far out of Gerard’s reach as possible. All he could do was give Gerard more of what he was wanting—the sound of his voice, apparently. “Did Mom make a good dinner tonight?”

“Yeah. We had… It was lasagna. With the real meat sauce. I know you don’t like it… I shouldn’t talk about it.”

“They made me eat chicken soup today,” Frank said.

“What?—But we told them you’re vegetarian. They can’t make you—I’ll talk to them tomorrow. That won’t happen again.”

“I picked all the chicken pieces out, but it was made with chicken stock—I know it.”

“They can’t do that…”

“The alternative was broccoli and cheese… They said lactose intolerance was more important than a lifestyle choice.”

“Those assholes,” Gerard whispered. “I’ll tell them off, Baby. They’ll get you something else.”

“You could bring me soup. They said I’m on a liquid diet until I get used to eating solid food. There were only like…five noodles in the whole bowl. It was awful, Gerard.”

“They can’t give you a fruit smoothie or something?”

“They have yogurt in them,” Frank mumbled.

“I’ll make sure they give you something you can eat. It’s not hard to get vegetable soup. It’s really not… I’ll tell them. Don’t worry, Baby.”

“Will you bring me coffee tomorrow? It has to be decaf, but I really want some,” Frank said. He didn’t really want coffee, but Gerard seemed to perk up when he thought there was something he could do to help Frank. 

“Yeah! Of course. I’ll bring anything you want. J-Just decaf coffee or do you want a latte like you used to get?”

“The soy latte,” Frank said, smiling as Gerard’s voice started to sound a little more normal. “With hazelnut.”

“Okay. I’ll get you the big one. Anything else? I’ll bring anything, Baby. I miss you.”

“Some veggie soup would be good. You can just bring me a bunch of cans and they can just heat them up for me every day.”

“We’ll do that then, Baby. I’ll get all the different kinds I can, okay?”

“Okay,” Frank said, giggling softly. 

Gerard hummed happily and whispered something to himself before sighing heavily. Frank heard something rustling in the background and Gerard let out a soft hiss.

“Are you okay?” Frank asked.

“Yeah—hurt my wrist earlier. Sprained it or something… Doesn’t hurt too much, though. Don’t worry about me.”

“But I love you. It’s my job to worry about you.” 

“Mm, but I just want you to get better first. Want you home with me. Wanna hold you… I miss you, Baby.”

“I miss you too… Maybe you can sneak in some night and we can just cuddle. Can we do that? I want that.”

“Oh, I want that too, Baby,” Gerard said, his voice a quiet whisper. “God, I miss you. Zoe misses you too.”

“Yeah?” Frank asked, perking up at the thought of his favorite dog. 

“She sleeps in your bed every time Mikey lets her out of his room. She misses you.”

“You should sneak Zoe in sometime,” Frank said, giggling at the thought. The nurses would be so pissed, but Frank found the thought irresistible. He’d give anything to see Zoe again.

They talked a little bit longer before Gerard’s voice started to become softer and softer—almost inaudible. Frank told him he needed to sleep, but Gerard fought him and stayed up a little longer before he fell asleep despite his efforts.

Frank laughed a little as he ended the call when his soft calls of Gerard’s name didn’t provoke a response. He still had the sense that something was wrong, but chalked it up to Gerard missing him and being lonely. 

( ) ( ) ( )

“Do you need a hospital?” 

The voice came out of nowhere and Gerard flinched, waking with a start.

“Hey. Do you need to go to the hospital?” Looming above him was his mother—her face half sympathetic yet still harboring a fair amount of disappointment.

“What?” Gerard muttered, rolling onto his back. There was something squeezing his arm, and when he looked to see what it was, his eyes widened in shock. 

Blood. 

There was blood everywhere. Staining his skin, staining his bed sheets and his clothing. He had tied his blanket around his wrist and a few inches from his hand on the bed was his cell phone—stained as well with blood. 

“Can you feel your arm?”

“K-Kind of,” Gerard stammered, suddenly feeling dizzy and nauseated as he tried to sit up.

“Let me look,” his mother said, sighing heavily as she pushed some of the bloodied blankets out of her way so she could sit down beside him on the bed. She grabbed his hand and pulled it toward her, untying the blanket at his elbow and then slowly unwinding it. When she got down to the last layer—stained completely black with blood—she had to slowly peel it off of his skin, tearing away the dried blood and scabs. 

Gerard hissed in pain as the wound was revealed. It was still seeping a little, but Gerard presumed it was from having the blanket torn away. 

“I’m going to tell Mikey to go to his room. You get dressed and come upstairs. I’ll get you cleaned up.” She passed him a sympathetic, weak grin and patted his shoulder before standing up and walking upstairs, leaving him alone to make sense of this mess. 

He remembered drinking too much, remembered getting sad and pathetic over Frank… Apparently it had gotten worse than usual because he’d only cut this badly once before and it had been on his thigh—a place easy to hide. Not his arm.

It scared him—it terrified him—when he realized that last night he hadn’t been cutting to punish himself or release the stress. He’d been cutting to kill and he’d damned near succeeded.

The pain as he changed his shirt was immense, and trying to put on fresh boxers and pants over the untreated cuts on his legs was even worse. He had to sit back down on his bed once he was done to recover and work himself up to climbing the stairs. His mother started calling for him then and he had no choice but to endure the pain and make his way to the kitchen.

Once he was upstairs his mother put an arm around him and ushered him over to the kitchen sink where she already had the warm water running.

“You really need to stop doing this to yourself, Gerard,” she said as she coaxed his arm under the stream.

Gerard winced in pain and bit into his lip as his mother pinned his wrist under the water. 

“I told you, we can pay for your therapist. I’d rather be out a few hundred bucks a month than lose a son. I can’t go through this again, Gerard.” She looked at him with disappointment and worry as she pumped a fair amount of antibacterial hand soap into her palm. 

“I’m sorry,” Gerard muttered, bracing himself for when she started scrubbing at his arm. The water rushing off his skin was stained red and he still couldn’t see the color of his flesh through the stream. 

“I don’t want you to be sorry; I want you to get better. We can work through this. Frank’s awake now. They say it’s unlikely he’ll fall back under again. You don’t need to worry about anything.”

That was easy for her to say. She wasn’t the one who’d hurt Frank, who let him down. 

“Gerard?”

“What!?” Gerard snapped, pain tearing through him as his mother started scrubbing his wound. It felt as if he’d been set on fire.

“Please tell me something I can do. There has to be something that helps,” she said gently. “I don’t want to see you go through this again. I thought I was going to lose you the last time… Tell me what helps.”

Gerard couldn’t speak. His throat was tight as he suppressed more groans of pain. His mother got more soap and scrubbed at his arm with her fingertips—going gently over the laceration so as to preserve the scabs and stop it from reopening all the way.

“This is bad, Gerard. This very, very bad…”

“Well if I went to the hospital, they would put me on a psychiatric hold and I promised Frank last night that I’d bring him coffee today.”

“I don’t think you should see him today. You’re so pale…he’s going to know something happened.”

“He’s finally up! I’m _going_ to see him!”

“Alright, alright. Calm down. I sent your father to get some gauze from the store. I don’t have any bandages here. We’ll come up with something to tell Frank.”

“We don’t need to tell him anything. He’s not going to notice.”

“That boy adores you. He’s going to know.”

“Frank barely knows who he is right now. He won’t notice,” Gerard whispered, knowing his mother was right. He just hoped Frank wouldn’t ask questions Gerard couldn’t answer. He wouldn’t lie to Frank—he was too afraid to hurt him—but he couldn’t bear to tell him the truth.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank couldn’t help beaming when Gerard stepped into the room with a drink carrier in one hand and large paper bag in the other. 

“You brought my latte!” He said excitedly.

“I got your soup, too. Six different kinds—two of each,” Gerard said, smiling back at him and setting the drink carrier and bag down on the bed. “No meat, no dairy, and all low in sodium,” he added, laughing as he leaned forward for a kiss. 

Frank kissed him back happily and then turned to the cups, turning them around until he spotted his name written with a heart next to it on one.

He giggled and pried it out of the foam carrier, but gave Gerard another kiss before taking a sip.

“This is so good,” Frank moaned, letting his eyes roll back as the flavor intoxicated him. It was so much better than the poison and animal by-products the hospital had been forcing on him. “You’re the best.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Gerard whispered. His tone was strange, like he didn’t sound happy at all, and Frank looked up at him again—taking in this time how pale he was and how dark the circles were under his eyes.

“Are you—”

“I’m fine, Baby. I just had a little too much to drink last night is all.”

“Oh…” Frank looked down at his cup, a little disappointed in his boyfriend though he’d never dare to say it out loud. He didn’t like it when Gerard drank too much, but that explained the odd phone call. 

“What?” Gerard asked, starting to look ashamed himself. Frank’s intention wasn’t to upset him and he started to feel a little guilty.

“You’ll be hung over when you go to work,” Frank whispered.

“I don’t work today,” Gerard said, smiling slightly.

“Really?” Frank couldn’t help but feel the excitement bubble up again. 

“Really. You know what that means, right?” Gerard asked, leaning over to kiss Frank’s cheek. 

“Y-You’re going to stay longer?” Frank asked, grinning like an idiot.

“All day if you’ll let me,” Gerard said.

“Definitely!” Frank said, bouncing up and down in the bed a little. 

“Mom and Mikey will be over after lunch. I thought I’d stop by early—get some alone time.”

“Oh, _alone time,_ ” Frank said, unable to stop from blushing as he dared to reach over and squeeze Gerard’s leg. The touch must’ve surprised him, because Gerard flinched and his eyes went wide. They couldn’t do anything in the hospital, but Frank was feeling a little more himself and he was hopeful Gerard might try _something._

“Wanna see what I picked out for you?” Gerard asked suddenly, rustling the paper bag beside them on the bed.

“Sure!” Frank said, grinning. 

“I know you’re supposed to be on an all liquid diet, so try not to eat too much of the other stuff, okay?”

“’Kay,” Frank said, smiling as Gerard started pulling out the cans of soup as if they were birthday or Christmas gifts. They were all of a vegan label meaning Gerard had gone far out of his way to get them—driving all the way to the health food store on the other side of town before driving down to the hospital. 

“I’ve got tomato basil, some garden vegetable, vegan cream and broccoli… I got some rice and bean one, but that might be pushing it right now—um… Some three bean soup, and then my personal favorite: Vegetarian Chili. But that’s _definitely_ for when you’re better.”

“Okay,” Frank said, a smile plastered on his face as he looked over the cans set before him. When he looked up, Gerard was smiling back at him affectionately. 

“I, uh, I even brought a bowl to heat them up in and a box of plastic spoons—so they staff can’t act like they’re not able to make it for you.”

“You think of everything,” Frank said, scooting closer so he could give Gerard a hug. When he pulled back he looked over the beige wrapping on his boyfriend’s left hand. “How did you sprain your hand?” He asked.

“Ah—I was helping Mom with something. You know I’m not cut out for physical labor,” Gerard said, smiling and laying down beside Frank on the tiny bed, folding himself around the coffee carrier and his neglected cup as well as all the soup. 

“Gonna take a nap?” Frank asked, taking a long drink from his latte before fitting it back in the cup carrier and then setting the carrier over on his end table. He put the soup back into the bag and moved it to the foot of the bed so he could lay down next to Gerard too—mindful of his heart monitor and IV.

“Didn’t sleep much last night. Missed my boyfriend too much,” Gerard said, closing his eyes.

“You really don’t look like you feel good, you know. Maybe you should drink your coffee.”

“Mm, but then I won’t be able to sleep.”

“But I don’t want you to sleep,” Frank said, poking Gerard’s nose to get him to open his eyes. 

“But I’m tired, Baby… I’m _real_ tired. Just lay here with me, okay? I just want to hold you.”

“Okay,” Frank said, rolling his eyes and scooting closer so he could wrap and arm over Gerard’s shoulder—his head nestled under Gerard’s chin. He really just wanted to drink his latte before it got too cold, but he didn’t want to complain. Gerard seemed upset and if he needed to rest and wanted Frank to rest with him, that was something Frank would just have to do.


	78. Chapter 78

_78_  
Frank was still snuggled into Gerard’s chest on the bed—craving his hazelnut soy latte that he knew was getting colder and colder by the second—when there came a gentle knock on the door to his room. He perked up a little and lifted himself just enough to peer over Gerard’s shoulder, expecting to see Donna and Mikey at the door but gasping in surprise when his eyes lit upon his father.

“D-Dad?” He stammered, looking down at Gerard and then back at his father. His heart started pounding as the fear flooded him. How was he going to explain this? He’d told his father his boyfriend was someone else—not Gerard. What would his father do to Gerard if Frank couldn’t think of an excuse fast enough? He could hurt him. He could try to take Frank away from him or put Gerard in jail. 

“Sorry,” his father said, pausing still in the doorway, staring at him with an unreadable expression. “I didn’t know you’d be sleeping still.”

“I-I… H-He fell asleep—it…it’s really not what it looks like. He’s just—just hung over is all,” Frank stammered, having trouble taking a breath as his entire body shook. His stomach started hurting all over again and the cravings he’d had for the warm coffee and even the cans of soup Gerard had brought him dissipated. 

“He’s not hung over, Frank,” his father said, rather bluntly, as he proceeded into the room and sat down in the chair on Frank’s side of the bed. 

“H-He is,” Frank stammered. “H-He just f-fell asleep a-and I got tired s-so I—”

“You don’t have to lie to me, kid,” his father said. 

Frank immediately ceased speaking and just stared at his father. He’d hurried to sit up, trying to put space between him and Gerard—hoping his boyfriend would wake up and help him but Gerard just…didn’t. He just laid there.

“Listen, I don’t want you to have some panic attack or anything. I know about you two, alright? I know. You don’t have to lie.” 

Frank stared at his father in shock, hoping this was a nightmare—that he’d really just fallen asleep and this was all just a figment of his imagination. 

“You were in a coma for two months. Do you really think Donna and I didn’t talk about you?” His father raised an eyebrow at him, smirking a little though it seemed shallow. He wasn’t happy. Frank could tell that very easily, but because his son was in the hospital he was at least making an attempt to be kind. “Just tell me one thing, Frankie, while he’s…out of it—he’s never forced you into anything, right? He doesn’t hurt you?”

“N-No,” Frank said, swallowing hard. He tried his hardest to keep eye contact as he answered his father, wanting to prove he was being honest, but it intimidated him. 

_“Has he?”_

“No,” Frank repeated. “He would never… He loves me.” Frank looked over at Gerard again, daring to nudge his shoulder in hopes he’d wake up, but he merely let out a soft whine and shifted his head. 

“Well, that settles that then,” his father said, moving uncomfortably in the stiff chair. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay, I guess,” Frank whispered, still nervous that something bad might happen. It was scaring him, too, that Gerard just wouldn’t wake up. Frank had been hung over before and yeah he’d been tired, but not like this… 

“I wanted to come see you yesterday, but couldn’t make it. I hope you’re not mad.”

“No—I’m not mad. I was really out of it yesterday. I didn’t even…I—I got confused a lot.”

“I can imagine,” his father said, chuckling softly. “You were asleep for a long time.”

“I still don’t know what happened—”

“You don’t need to worry about it. You just have to focus on getting better right now.”

Frank bit his lip, knowing now without a shadow of a doubt that whatever happened had been tragic. It had obviously been nearly lethal, but he’d assumed it was an accident or he’d gotten sick like he always used to as a kid. Only this time no one wanted him to think about it. No one wanted him to remember.

If he’d gotten sick, they would tell him what he’d had. If there’d been an accident, the only reason he could imagine them hiding it was if someone else had been hurt even worse. But Gerard had said Donna and Mikey would be coming to see him today, too, so it couldn’t be that…

“What’s in the bag?” His father asked suddenly, calling Frank from his thoughts.

“Huh?—Oh. Soup. Gerard brought me some vegan soups since the hospital doesn’t have any,” Frank said, looking at Gerard again. He glanced at his coffee, neglected on the end table behind Gerard, and then reached for it. He intentionally bumped into his boyfriend as much as he could, but Gerard only moaned and shifted closer to him. At least he was moving though…he wasn’t dead. “He got me coffee, too,” Frank said, taking a sip of his lukewarm latte. 

“He takes good care of you, huh?”

“Yeah,” Frank said, the conversation still making him nervous. 

“So…other than the shitty food, are they treating you alright? The nurses aren’t hurting you, right? They treat you good?”

“Th-they’re all really nice to me. Except about the food… They let Gerard visit me all the time and that…that’s nice too.” It was hard to keep Gerard out of the conversation, it seemed. Given the circumstances, that was truly all Frank knew and had to talk about. Gerard came to see him. Gerard texted him at night and every day that he’d been in the hospital. He’d drawn on the whiteboard across the room every day, too, and took pictures of them so Frank could see. He loved Gerard. It was hard to discredit him and even harder to act like they didn’t exist. 

His father talked to him for about half an hour—just small talk—before Gerard finally woke up. Frank was startled when he felt something stroking his hand, then he looked down and saw Gerard watching him—smiling a little. 

He whispered something Frank didn’t catch, then leaned up and kissed Frank on the cheek—and that exact moment realized they weren’t alone and his eyes widened in shock. He pulled back abruptly, but said nothing—too startled, it seemed, to form words. 

“Finally awake?” Frank’s father said, not at all looking humored by the exchange. He didn’t approve and Frank knew it. The man just wasn’t going to say anything—especially not with Frank still in the hospital.

“I… Sorry. I didn’t mean to…I-I’ll go.” Gerard started to pull away, but Frank grabbed his arm and squeezed it tightly. He didn’t want him to leave. He didn’t want left alone with his father—a stranger he barely knew. 

Gerard looked from Frank to his father, shaking though Frank couldn’t understand why, then pulled away again.

“I’ve gotta get something to drink,” Gerard said quickly.

“You have coffee,” Frank said, grasping urgently for Gerard’s hand.

“No, Baby, I need water,” Gerard said, his tone anything but affectionate, as he stood from the bed and left the room. His footsteps were unsteady and Frank truly feared he might fall down in the hallway. If not for the wires and cables confining him to his hospital bed, Frank would’ve followed him to make sure he was okay. 

“Don’t worry. He’ll come back,” his father said.

“Something’s not right,” Frank said, squeezing his eyes shut as another ripple of pain tore through his stomach. 

“I’ll go check on him. You need anything while I’m up?” 

“Ice water maybe,” Frank said, setting his coffee down—part of him wondering if it had something to do with his stomach pains. 

“Okay. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Frank sighed as his father walked away, then immediately reached for his phone and texted Mikey. He didn’t want to be alone.

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard managed to find a drinking fountain in the hallway by the bathrooms, but no matter how much he drank he still felt shaky. His head was hurting so badly and the white lights in the corridor made it all worse. He felt like he was going to faint and slowly sank down onto the floor by the drinking fountain, resting his head against the cool steel. 

Someone was going to come by eventually to see what was wrong with him—a nurse he hoped—who would take him downstairs to the emergency room because he really didn’t feel like he was going to make it. 

He felt alright this morning, but now he didn’t think he would be able to drive himself home—he _knew_ he couldn’t drive himself home. 

“Come on. We’ll get you some help.”

Gerard barely even heard the voice before he felt hands hooking under his arms, yanking him up to his feet. It was Frank’s father he realized, the very last person he wanted to have him isolated.

“I-I just needed water,” Gerard stammered. “I thought you two would want space—”

“Oh, shut it,” the man grumbled as he guided Gerard to the elevator and it the down button. “I talked to your mother this morning. You think she didn’t tell me about you?”

“About me and Frank?” Gerard asked, trying hard to stand on his own as they waited for the elevator. He barely knew this guy and what he did know about him, he didn’t like. 

“She told me about that months ago. I’m talking about last night.”

“She doesn’t need to tell you that,” Gerard said, betrayal cutting through his haze. He didn’t want talked about—not by his mother to some stranger. So what if he was Frank’s father? He’d abandoned him with a mad woman. He was just as bad as Linda.

“Look—I called to say I was coming to visit Frank, she asked me to check on you. And it’s a good thing she did because I don’t think you dying in bed next to him is going to get my son better.”

“I’m not going to die,” Gerard muttered, knowing he hardly sounded convincing as he slumped against the inside wall of the elevator. 

“I know you’re not, but we’ve got to make sure of that, don’t we? For Frank?”

“Yeah,” Gerard whispered, staring ahead of him blankly as they made their way toward the emergency room on the far wing of the hospital. “Just don’t…say you know what happened. I’ll tell them something—I can’t get put on psychiatric hold. I need Frank… I need Frank to know I’m okay.”

“Let’s just get you okay first. He’s alright.”

Gerard sighed heavily as Frank Sr. deposited him at the registration counter of the emergency room—leaving him to get himself cared for even though instinct told him to run, that it’d be better to try to self-medicate at home than risk whatever they might do to him here. 

But he was so exhausted he knew he wouldn’t get far. 

He took his form and filled it out, but knew his condition must’ve been bad because as soon as he handed it over, a nurse came and took him back to a room—not even letting him return to his seat in the waiting room first.

Immediately the questioning started and he fed them a bullshit story about cutting his wrist on a jagged bit of steel from the conveyor belt at the Spend N Save. The nurses tried and tried to get him to confess the “truth,” but Gerard stuck to his story as he was hooked to an IV and his bandages were unwound. 

He refused to look at his arm at all as he lay there and kept his eyes closed. At some point he assumed he passed out again because he woke up to stitches, his arm being held down by a male nurse while another drove the needle repeatedly into his skin. 

His headache had gone away and he felt a little better, but not much. Above all, he was worried about Frank and what his father might tell him. Frank _couldn’t_ know about this…not yet anyway. He didn’t need any more stress, and Gerard really hoped the boy would be patient. He would make sure to see him again before he left the hospital, even if they tried to keep him overnight. He’d refuse—he’d go see Frank and kiss him goodnight. It’d been too long since he’d been able to do that and he was never going to miss the opportunity again. He was never going to take a single second he got to spend with Frank for granted again…

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank sniffed and stared down at his cell phone screen. He’d been trying to get ahold of Gerard for hours yet he couldn’t get an answer. His father would say what happened, Donna and Mikey wouldn’t say what happened, but Gerard was just _gone._ He left to get a drink and then he never came back…

It was going on eight at night and he still hadn’t heard from Gerard and he was so afraid that something bad had happened to him. He knew Gerard wasn’t feeling well, but what if he’d gotten worse? What if he wasn’t getting better? Frank didn’t know what to do and the helplessness ate away at him.

It was hard to even pretend to be happy to see Donna and Mikey when they came because he just wanted Gerard back. He loved them, but he wanted Gerard. 

Frank curled up and nuzzled his pillow, mind racing through all the possible things that could’ve happened. No one would tell him anything and that made it so much worse. His imagination was far worse than reality and he was beginning to fear that Gerard was dead and everyone was hiding it.

Then, finally, his phone chirped and Frank immediately lit up the screen. 

It was a text. From Gerard.

_U awake baby?_

“Yes,” Frank answered. “Are you okay?”

_Im ok. I’ll b right up Love you._

Frank sighed in relief and thanked God as he sat up in the bed and wiped at his eyes, wishing he’d kept his composure. In no time at all the door to his room opened and Gerard stepped inside, framed by the white lights of the hallway. 

Frank hurried to turn on his bedside lamp, then looked back over at Gerard, his heart pounding. 

“Where did you go?” Frank asked, staring at him as he closed the door and came over to the bed. His hair was messy and his had a brace on his wrist instead of the wrap he’d had earlier. His color looked a little better, though, and he was smiling.

“My arm started hurting again so I went to the urgent care across town—”

“Don’t lie to me!” Frank yelled. He was happy to see Gerard and _relieved,_ but he’d been so terrified and it wasn’t fair of Gerard to act like nothing happened. He left without saying anything. He didn’t even text. He was gone for _hours_ and no one would tell Frank anything. 

“Baby… I’m sick, okay? I told you I drank too much last night. I…I had alcohol poisoning, I guess. Your dad took me downstairs to the emergency room. They—they pumped my stomach and all kinds of things. I’m sorry. I…I just didn’t want you to worry.”

“You couldn’t text me?” Frank asked, staring at him. Gerard stopped a few paces back from the bed, just out of Frank’s reach. It was too much distance and Frank was scared to death. If Gerard had been in the ER, if he’d really drank that much, why wouldn’t anyone tell him? He could handle it. He _deserved_ to know!

“I was unconscious, Frank. I couldn’t even keep my eyes open when I was with you.”

“Well…are you going to be okay?” Frank asked, motioning for Gerard to come closer until, finally, his boyfriend complied and sat down next to him. Frank immediately wrapped his arms around him and kissed his cheek, cherishing the closeness. “You scared me,” Frank said, his voice cracking. He didn’t care if he looked pathetic—he was lonely and had spent all day _terrified_ of all the things that could’ve happened to Gerard that no one wanted to tell. 

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry… I didn’t plan to go to the ER. I would’ve told you… But I wasn’t going to go home without saying goodbye.”

“Just stay here,” Frank murmured, even though he knew Gerard couldn’t. The nurses would throw him out since visiting hours were over, but he doubted they’d ban him from the hospital. He could stay next to Frank and sleep by him for hours before the nurses came to check his room. He could stay if he wanted… If he wanted Frank.

“I can’t. Visiting hours have been over for a while—I just snuck up here from the ER.”

“Just stay here,” Frank repeated, kissing Gerard’s neck and holding him tighter—unwilling to pull back enough even for a kiss. 

“Okay, okay… I’ll stay until they catch me, alright?” Gerard said, kissing the top of Frank’s head. 

Frank didn’t say anything. He just continued to hold him, even as Gerard started moving to lay down. He unwound one of his arms so Gerard could lay comfortably, but continued to clutch onto Gerard’s shirt as his boyfriend leaned over to turn off the light. 

They both shifted around for a moment, trying to get comfortable on the narrow bed, then Gerard pulled Frank’s head onto his chest and wrapped his arms around him securely. 

“I’m sorry. I know I hurt you,” Gerard whispered.

“You _scared_ me,” Frank said, sniffling as he nuzzled Gerard’s chest—savoring the closeness he’d been yearning the night before. He couldn’t wait to go home. He wanted to go back to having Gerard like this every night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Promise this is the end of the sad stuff for a while. The next chapter should have something a little exciting for you, I think. Thanks for reading along with this crazy long fic!


	79. Chapter 79

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short update bc I really wanted to post something but my brain is a bit too fuzzy from my car accident to write anything more.

_79_

Nights proved challenging for Frank, no matter who he texted or for how long. Mikey always fell asleep on him so early—Jamia too—and though Gerard answered him quickly, Frank felt guilty talking to him for too long. Gerard had to go to work in the mornings and he couldn’t perform well if he wasn’t rested. Frank would feel awful if he caused him to get written up or fired…

Tonight, though, Gerard kept texting even after Frank lied and said he was going to sleep. He just kept sending text after text—frowning faces and broken hearts until Frank answered. It proved a dismal situation, however, when answering seemed to make Gerard as upset as his silence. 

_I shouldn’t bother you,_ Gerard insisted. _You need sleep. I’m sorry. I’ll stop._

Frank kept telling him it was fine and he loved him, but Gerard just wouldn’t stop. He was sad and Frank couldn’t figure out why. No amount of hearts or emojis was fixing it either. He couldn’t convince Gerard that he wasn’t actually trying to sleep or even ready to try. Frank just wasn’t sleepy… He wanted to talk to someone and there really was no one better than Gerard…his boyfriend

Ignoring the latest of Gerard’s sad texts, Frank sent him a long, drawn out “I luv uuuuuuuuuuuu.” 

_I love you 2,_ Gerard answered. 

“But I reaaaally luv u,” Frank texted back. 

_Oh do you?_

“Mmhm! Ur my fav.” He added a ton of hearts and a smiley face. 

_Well youre my fav,_ Gerard answered with a smiley face. 

Frank stared at the text a moment, planning his next move. Where did he want this to go?—Did he really want to spend the rest of his night having the “no, I love you more” conversation? No…

But… 

“U should send me a pic,” Frank said, adding a winking face. 

_Oh I should?_

“Yes.” 

_Ok. If you really want me 2._

“I do!” Frank answered—then waited. About a minute later a picture message came through of a sketch on Gerard’s desk. 

_This good?_ Gerard asked.

Frank sent him a scowling emoji, then an angry selfie. 

_Don’t get mad!_ Gerard said, adding a frowning face.

“Send me pics!”

They went back and forth and back and forth for close to thirty minutes before Frank finally got a selfie of Gerard at his desk—a bit of ink or charcoal smeared on his cheek. 

“Ur cute,” Frank said, adding as many hearts as he could—all the different colors and types his emoji keyboards would allow.

_Nah. I’m a mess,_ Gerard answered. 

“Cute,” Frank insisted. “Send me more pics!”

_Why do you want pics so bad?_

“Pics!”

_Yes. But y?_

“PICS!!!”

_OK. OK!_

Frank sent an excited emoji and waited. Finally, Frank received another photo of Gerard—this time with the charcoal or whatever off his face. 

“Cute!”

_Gonna send me one?_ Gerard asked.

Frank looked around his hospital room, thinking about what he could send. 

_Nothing 4 me? Com oooon,_ Gerard whined. 

Frank stared at the text a moment—the little typo standing out to him more than it should.

“Com on??” Fran asked, adding a winking face.

_**Come. COME. Happy now??_

“Am I happy?” Frank asked.

_Yes. Are you happy now?_

Frank looked at the text a moment, his cheeks starting to burn a little as another thought entered his head. 

“Id b happy if u let me,” Frank texted him.

_If I let you what?_ Gerard asked, adding a frown. 

Without even thinking about it, his cheeks still hot, Frank texted him one word. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard choked and began coughing, his phone falling out of his hand and onto his desk. 

_Come,_ Frank had said. 

He would be happy if Gerard would let him _come._

He didn’t know how to answer that—or how he _should_ answer that. Obviously, Frankie hadn’t meant send selfies when he’d been asking for pictures. Obviously, he was looking for a little something more.

Gerard’s phone lit up again and dared to look back down at the screen. 

_Arent u going to help me? ):_

Gerard couldn’t do anything but stare at his screen. Was Frank asking him to help _get him off_ while he was in the hospital? What if a nurse came in to check on him? 

_Geraaaaaaaarrd_

Knowing he couldn’t hesitate to answer any longer, Gerard picked up his phone and struggled to form a coherent text when all he could think about—other than the fact his boyfriend was in a hospital bed—was that Frank was turned on. Frank was turned on and he wanted _Gerard._ After everything that had happened, he still wanted Gerard… 

“Not sure what I can do baby,” Gerard sent him, swallowing hard.

_Send me piiiiics,_ Frank answered, not missing a single beat. 

“Of what????” Gerard asked, knowing very well what his boyfriend wanted. It wasn’t happening. He couldn’t send Frank _nudes._ He was _not_ sending Frank nudes. Not ever. _Never._

_): I’ll send u mine_

“No. No thnx.”

_Why? Am I ugly? ):_

Gerard groaned and stood from his desk, hurrying to his bed and plopping down. 

“No baby. Never baby. Youre so perfect.”

_Prove it._

Gerard sighed and stared at his phone. What was he supposed to do? 

He wanted to be excited, but he truly just felt dizzy and awful. It had been two days since he’d passed out in Frank’s hospital bed and ended up in the ER getting extra blood pumped into his veins. His wrist and one of the cuts on his thighs was infected, but he couldn’t tell _Frank_ that. He had to play it cool.

He had to give Frank what he wanted. It was his fault Frank was even in the hospital. The least he could do was help the boy pass the time. 

“How?” Gerard asked.

_Pics?_

“No baby. I cant send u those!” Gerard was blushing furiously even though Frank wasn’t around to see his shame. He knew Frank wanted _nudes,_ and he just couldn’t do that. He’d never sent pictures like that to anyone—not a single one of his exes. Pictures like that were just so dangerous. What if a nurse saw them? What if Frank’s _father_ saw them? What if, sometime in the future, they broke up and Frank still had those photos? He could use them to ruin Gerard.

And it wasn’t just the shame.

Not only was he too embarrassed, he had cuts now. He’d ruined himself and Frank couldn’t see…

_): But I miss u. Please? I’ll send u mine._

Before Gerard could even text back a stern _no,_ another message came through and the image attached to it immediately began to download. The thumbnail was so dark and grainy that Gerard couldn’t make any sense of it but, instead of ignoring it, he found himself tapping it to view full-size an image of Frank’s prominently tented boxers.

“Oh, holy shit,” Gerard whispered to himself, staring at the image. He wanted Frank home—he wanted him here where he could reach him, _touch_ him. Not just stare at him. 

He couldn’t do this though. He _couldn’t._

_Gerard??_

But Frank wanted him… He _needed_ Gerard. If he didn’t answer, Frank would get self-conscious about his scars again and Gerard couldn’t fix that from the other side of town. 

“Looks like you got a BIG problem baby,” Gerard said, shaking his head at how foolish he sounded. He knew how to flirt—he swore he did. But it was hard with Frank being so far away, and Gerard still didn’t feel much like himself after everything that had happened. 

_R U GOING 2 HELP OR NOT?_

Gerard groaned and looked around his room again, embarrassed—flustered—and so confused. How was he supposed to handle this? Frank was trying to send him pictures he _couldn’t_ have. It was child porn, wasn’t it?—To have pictures of someone so young? 

But Gerard owed him so much… It was his fault Frank was in the hospital at all, and he was lucky Frank was even alive enough to have this conversation. He was lucky Frank still wanted him at all after what he’d done… 

“You look so tasty,” Gerard texted him, shaking his head at how stupid he had to sound. He didn’t know what to say, but he wanted the attention on Frank rather than himself. He didn’t want Frank to ask for photos because Gerard just knew he’d be compelled to send them—and if he messed up, Frank would see the fresh cuts.

_Lol! U wanna lick me huh?_

Blushing, Gerard typed back a quick “I want more than that,” then waited. It was almost three minutes before Frank replied again and Gerard began to fear he’d scared him off or made him uncomfortable. 

_If u were here what would u do with me?_ Frank asked. 

Gerard squirmed a little, leaning back against the headboard of his bed—the front of his jeans growing a little tighter. What would he do with him? Anything Frank asked… Anything.

And tonight Frank was asking for Gerard to feed him dirty fantasies.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank’s breath got caught in his throat as he stared at the phone he held in his right hand—the one hooked to his IV and telltale heart monitor—while his left hand clumsily fit down the front of his boxers to wrap around his length. 

“First Id slip my hand up your shirt, real slow. Id trace your nipples with the tip of my thumb the way you like.”

Frank moaned softly, his hips bucking just at the thought—his mind playing over flesh memories and ghost sensations. 

He was about to try to text something to Gerard—hopefully something more than keyboard smashing from his shaky hands—when another text came through.

“Id take off your shirt and kiss your neck down to your chest.” 

Frank lay there panting, reading each message that popped up on his screen. Gerard would kiss him, then suck one of his nipples until Frank “moaned for him,” then give him a “little pinch with his teeth” before kissing his way lower and lower.

Frank licked his lips as he waited for another message to add to the string so sin, but a minute passed and nothing came. 

“Then what??” Frank asked him. Still nothing. Part of him began to panic—fearing Gerard had gone away or given up on him, planning to leave him wanting all night alone—but his arousal tore through his nerves. “Would you make me beg?” He asked. 

_Id make you plead,_ Gerard said, not missing a beat. 

Frank moaned loudly, gasping after the fact when saw a dark shadow pass his doorway—a nurse doing the nightly rounds. He held his breath and stared at the white light streaming under the door until another message came through from Gerard.

_Still hard for me baby? Bc I am for you._ Gerard sent a winking face and then, seconds later, a photo. 

He sent a photo.

Frank’s heart skipped a beat as he clicked on it—his mind filling with an image of the very tip of his boyfriend’s cock peeking out over the hem of his grey underwear. It was blurry and out of focus, but it was more than enough. He could see a bit of Gerard’s soft, pale stomach and the dark curls of his pubes. 

Frank pushed his boxers down his hips and quickly snapped a photo with a shaking hand, the white light of the camera flash briefly emphasizing all of his marks and scars. He saw them, acknowledged them, but sent his photo anyway—and licked his lips as he waited for a favorable reply. Gerard would tell him he was perfect again. Gerard would tell him he looked good.

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard’s eyes widened in shock when a picture came through of Frank—all of Frank. He was hard—a glistening bead of pre-cum on the very tip of his cock. 

Frank _couldn’t_ send him pictures like that. It wasn’t appropriate—it wasn’t _legal_ was it? God, but he looked so good. Surely there couldn’t be any harm done if he deleted them after tonight, right? 

Gerard could see his scars and bruises, an image which still inspired rage and heartache in him, but he knew if Frank was sending this photo it meant his boyfriend was getting better. They were good photos—showing progress for both Frank and their relationship. 

He was confident—or crazy. In this moment, he wasn’t seeing himself as ugly or undesirable. He answered Gerard’s photo with one of himself, believing it would fill Gerard with the same lust he felt when he saw Gerard’s image. 

“God baby you’re perfect,” Gerard texted him, struggling to get his left hand to type the letters properly as his dominant hand squeezed his cock. 

_Wish u could touch me,_ Frank said. 

“Me 2. Id suc u so hard nd make sure theres not a drop left in u.”

Gerard started stroking himself a little faster—not so much imagining himself pleasuring Frank, but the other way around. He missed how close Frank would lay beside him at night. Frank was always so eager to please and always so needy in return. 

Gerard wanted him—he missed him and he wanted him back so badly. 

_Would u finger me??_

“Oh my god,” Gerard whispered, tipping his head back against the cold, basement wall. Frank was trying to kill him. He really, really was. All Gerard could think about now was fucking the boy. He wanted him so _damned_ bad. Frank needed to get better—he needed to come home.

“Baby Id stretch u so good nd get u ready for me. U want me baby?”

_Please!!_ Frank texted him. 

Gerard listed off all the things he wished he could do with his small, perfect boyfriend. He would stretch him and prep him, give him all the kisses in the world and then press inside. He promised to be gentle, he promised he’d move slow until Frank begged him for more. 

He only got through half of the things he wanted to do to his perfect, sexy boyfriend before another picture message started to download itself onto his phone. Then another and a third.

The first was Frank’s stomach with a distinct, shiny spatter of fluid across it. The next photo was of his cock, laying spent and wet against his abdomen—framed by a mess of dark curls. The third was one Gerard swore he’d never delete—never ever.

A selfie of Frank smiling at him, blissed out and hazy with glittery eyes and a sleepy smirk. 

Gerard managed a quick “you’re so beautiful, Baby” before he had to set his phone aside and dedicate more of his attention to reaching climax. As soon as he finished he allowed himself a few seconds to catch his breath before reaching for his phone again. 

_Are u going to visit me when u get off work tomorrow?_ Frank asked, his usual anxiety coming through.

“Definitely,” Gerard answered, smiling as he pressed send and brought up that picture of Frank again—saving it and taking in every aspect of Frank’s face. He loved the light and life that shined in his eyes. He was so, so thankful his boyfriend was still breathing—that he’d survived that awful ordeal. So thankful they could still have moments like this, even if distance kept them apart.

_Maybe u can touch me??_

“If the nurses arent around Ill do anything you want,” Gerard typed back. 

_Really??_

“Really. Maybe not all the way but I will DEF suck u off.”

Frank sent him an array of hearts and smiley faces and kept sending little messages of love and affection until it appeared he’d fallen asleep. Gerard texted him a brief goodnight even though Frank wasn’t answering anymore, then moved to get cleaned up for bed.


	80. Chapter 80

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took 20 years to be updated. I'm slow. Thanks to everybody who was concerned about me after my car accident. Everything has been taken care of and I'm in good health now! I let myself get distracted with a side project, but it stalled out a bit too so...hopefully I'll update more regularly now.

_80_

Frank was growing bored with his stay in the hospital. He got visitors besides Gerard, Mikey, and Donna (like Jamia and even Ellen and Ray from Spend n Save), but his days were so uneventful. Sure, every now and then one of the nurses would spoil him with a special lunch or let him borrow one of their son’s handheld video games for the day, but otherwise it was the same old daytime television shows and unending boredom. 

Often, his mind would start to wander and he’d be left wondering just how he’d managed to end up in the hospital in the first place. No one would tell him and the nurses refused to give him his file so he could see. They didn’t want him to become stressed, they said. He still needed the ulcers in his stomach to heal and stress would just prove counterproductive. 

Truthfully, their secrecy just gave him more ideas about what had happened. It wasn’t an accident he’d been in and he hadn’t gotten suddenly ill with a serious bug. If it was anything so common, everybody would want to tell him about it. Mikey definitely would be the one to spare no details had there been an accident of some kind. But the fact that no one would say anything to him at all told Frank that whatever had happened had been his own doing. 

He’d tried to kill himself—or at least tried to hurt himself—and had ended up in the hospital on life support. The only problem was that now he couldn’t remember _why._ Gerard seemed to feel guilty about it, but it wasn’t like Frank could just ask him if they’d fought and that was why he tried to kill himself—poison himself. 

He must’ve poisoned himself, he decided. The burning that occupied his stomach for so long, the ulcers, his ruined sense of taste—it all had to be from chemicals burns. He must’ve drank the bleach. That was the awful secret no one wanted to tell him, probably afraid it would trigger him again. 

Part of him wanted to remember what happened—nervous that he’d done something awful or that he and Gerard had fought. Gerard, after all, seemed so guilty and anxious—a lot more anxious than he usually was. Frank really hoped nothing bad had happened between them…

“Hey, Baby. I brought you some lunch.” 

Frank looked away from the crime drama playing out on the TV hanging across from his bed and smiled as Gerard came into his room carrying a paper bag. 

“Hey! Where have you been? I was texting all morning,” Frank said. When Gerard was within reach, Frank wrapped his arms around his shoulders and held him tight.

“I was out getting you food—and seeing my counselor,” Gerard said, sitting down on the bed. 

“Your counselor? Is everything okay?” Frank’s chest tightened at the words.

“Yeah—Don’t worry about it. I’m alright.” Gerard smiled at him but Frank searched his face, feeling the expression wasn’t genuine. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Frank said, turning his attention back to the bag of food Gerard had brought him.

“What? What’s the matter?” Gerard pressed. 

“Nothing—I just worry about you, you know? I’m not home with you… I don’t know what you do at night.”

“What do you mean?—I text you all night and try to keep up,” Gerard said, chuckling softly. “You know, I never would’ve imagined you’d be the sexting type. Not in a hundred years.” Gerard giggled as he said it, but even his laugh seemed strained. 

“It’s only because I miss you,” Frank said, blushing and feeling a bit of shame. At night when he was lonely he didn’t feel so embarrassed. 

“I miss you too, Baby,” Gerard said, kissing Frank’s temple as he began opening the paper bag. 

“Have they told Mom when I get to leave here yet? It’s so _boring,”_ Frank said, beaming as he pulled a six-inch veggie delux sub sandwich out of the bag. There were chips in the bag as well, but it seemed Gerard had forgotten to bring him a drink. 

“In the next couple of weeks, Baby. You still have a lot of recovering to do.”

“No I don’t,” Frank mumbled, unwrapping his sub. “I feel fine. I think they just want to rack up more medical bills.”

“The state pays your bills. Trust me, if you were healthy enough to leave, the social workers would have you out of here in a minute.”

“I’m not sick anymore though,” Frank grumbled. He was tired of being in the hospital. It was boring and lonely and he was sick to death of not having any privacy. He didn’t like asking to be unhooked from all the monitors so he could take a piss—or having the nurses wait for him to finish using the toilet so they could hook him up again. He missed Donna’s cooking and Gerard’s warmth at night—he missed playing guitar with Mikey and he missed _Zoe_ so much! 

“I know you don’t feel like you’re sick, but you are. Okay? You’re still recovering. Just give yourself some more time. You’ll be home before you know it.” Gerard passed him this weak, odd smile and Frank set down his sandwich. 

“Gerard… I want to ask you something.”

“Yeah,” Gerard said, fidgeting and looking down at his hands. He seemed to already know exactly what Frank wanted to ask. 

“I really want you to…to tell me the truth.”

“Okay, Frank,” Gerard whispered. 

Frank took a deep breath and prepared himself to ask the question he already knew the answer to. 

“Did I…do this to myself?” Frank asked, looking from the sandwich to Gerard who cringed as if he were in pain. 

“We don’t need to talk about it now—”

“I asked you a question and you said you’d answer,” Frank snapped. 

Gerard kept his eyes squeezed shut and shook his head, struggling so hard to keep the words to himself while at the same time trying to force them out. 

“Yes, but—but you don’t need to worry about that right now. You just need to focus on getting better—on feeling better. B-Because I w-want you to come home with me an-and me happy. So…so you don’t need to think about it.” Gerard looked and sounded as if he were about to go into a full-blown panic attack, his breaths sharp and fluttery. He kept biting his lips in between his words and tugging at the left sleeve of his sweater. 

“Gerard?” Frank asked, barely capable of using his voice. 

“I’m fine—just give me a…give me a minute.” His voice was harsh, but Frank could tell it was due to pain as opposed to anger. Gerard was trying hard not to cry, every now and then looking up at the ceiling as he forced back his tears. He sniffed loudly, then wiped his nose on his sleeve. “I’m sorry. It doesn’t help having me cry like a fucking baby over this. I know that,” Gerard said, his voice shaking. 

“It’s okay,” Frank said.

“Not it’s not!” Gerard snapped. His voice was so harsh that Frank recoiled from him, a painful spike of fear going through his stomach. “Frank, you _died._ Your heart stopped! I was _holding_ you and…and you just weren’t moving. Don’t tell me it’s _okay._ You’re in here because you’re still _sick._ Maybe you feel fine, but you’re not.” Gerard buried his head in his hands after that and cried. He was still trying to fight it, but it was very clear it was a battle he was losing. 

Ashamed, Frank kept silent and bowed his head. His appetite was completely gone and looking at the sandwich Gerard had brought him made his stomach tighten. He almost felt like he was about to be sick. 

“I didn’t mean to yell at you,” Gerard said, his head still in his hands. “I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t help you. I don’t want you to feel bad or guilty or anything like that… I-I… I shouldn’t have said any of that. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” Frank said, biting his lip—fearful Gerard would snap at him again, remind him that it _wasn’t_ okay. “I need to hear it,” he added. “I don’t remember anything that happened. I’ve tried, but…there’s nothing there.”

“That’s a good thing,” Gerard said, sniffling. “You probably don’t thinks so, but it is. You don’t…you don’t want to remember any of that.”

Frank kept his head bowed and slowly nodded, not sure what to say. It was apparent he wouldn’t be able to get Gerard to tell him why it all happened—if Gerard even knew. But how was he supposed to get better if he didn’t know what triggered him? 

He and Gerard had never had secrets from each other before… Frank didn’t like this. He didn’t like it at all.

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard sat in his bed, picking at the scabs and scars on his thighs since he refused to allow himself to give in and cut again. Frank began to look so _ashamed_ after Gerard had snapped at him. The light left his eyes entirely and for the rest of Gerard’s visit, Frank barely spoke at all. His answers became brief and clipped, his tone low—his voice a quiet mumble. He didn’t answer Gerard’s texts either…

Gerard had hurt him and there was no taking it back.

He’d been agitated by Frank’s nonchalance about the whole situation, but that didn’t give him the right to yell at the boy. Frank didn’t _remember._ His mental state was fragile and it was probably a good thing he didn’t understand the full weight of his actions yet. What good would come of Frank knowing how badly he’d hurt everyone who cared about him? Upsetting people in any way was a trigger for the poor boy. He didn’t need triggered again. He needed protected. He needed sheltered and loved and kept _safe_ from himself and his own poisoned mind. 

Gerard kept working his fingers over one of his deeper wounds until he felt his fingers grow wet with blood. After that he forced himself to rest both of his hands on his knees—fighting the urge to cause himself more pain. Frank wasn’t going to want him anymore if he saw how messed up he’d become. His only chance to salvage what they’d had—if that was even possible after yelling at him like that—was to give his cuts time to heal and hope they didn’t scar…too much. 

He didn’t know what he was going to tell Frank when he did see the scars on his thighs. The ones on his wrist he wanted to explain away as an injury from work—say that he cut it open while helping unload the truck or something… Frank wasn’t stupid though. 

Frank would see. Frank would know. Frank would blame himself…or hate Gerard for it. There was just so much left that could go _wrong_ now. 

Gerard hadn’t been prepared to face the consequences if Frank survived. He expected his boyfriend to die. He hadn’t wanted it, but he’d never believed he’d have to answer for what he’d done to himself in Frank’s absence. 

He’d fallen into helpless madness, a pathetic state Frank didn’t deserve to have to deal with. Frank didn’t deserve any of this… 

Gerard should’ve just left him alone. Frank should’ve been allowed to find love with someone else—someone better. Someone who wasn’t one step away from a mental asylum. Someone who couldn’t even get his shit together enough to hold down a crappy, dead-end job when times got hard. No, instead of sucking it up and being strong, Gerard fell apart. 

How was he supposed to care for Frank if he couldn’t even take care of himself?

He was pathetic… He should’ve stayed home that day and bled out instead of going to the hospital to visit Frank—instead of passing out next to Frank and nearly dying next to him in the hospital bed. 

Gerard grabbed his cell phone and sent Frank another desperate text, even though the boy was probably asleep by now. 

“I miss you. Hope you feel OK.” 

He stared at his screen and waited…and waited. Hoping to see a little chat bubble pop up on his screen with an “I miss u 2” or at least a heart and “zzz.” But he got nothing. 

He didn’t deserve a response. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard was sad and nothing Frank did cheered him up. He sent selfies all morning, tried sending a naughty picture only to be shot down, sent hearts and “I luv uuuu” messages… All he got in response were the briefest of texts in response. When Gerard finally showed up at the hospital to visit, he looked so tired and downtrodden. He had his sunglasses on which usually implied he had been crying or was hung over…

Frank tried kissing him and snuggling with him in the hospital bed, but Gerard barely even held him. It scared him—it made him so fearful that he’d caused irreparable damage between them. He’d misspoken the last time they’d been together and had broken their love. 

In a last ditch effort, Frank had climbed into Gerard’s lap and kissed him on the mouth—or at least he’d tried to. As soon as Frank was on top of him, Gerard let out a sharp gasp and pulled back. 

“Babe, you gotta get off me—you’re hurting me.”

“I didn’t gain that much weight,” Frank mumbled, his feelings hurt as he pulled away, moving to sit dejectedly at Gerard’s side. “I only eat the soup you brought me and the salads from downstairs…”

“It’s not that, I’m just… My legs are sore.” Gerard’s brow was scrunched up in pain as he tenderly rubbed his thighs where Frank had been sitting.

At first, the gesture confused Frank. How could sitting on him really hurt him that much? Then Frank thought about it and a dark realization hit him. 

Gerard had been so sad lately… It wasn’t his legs that were hurting—it was his thighs. His _thighs._ He used to cut his thighs when he was in high school, Gerard had told him. What if he’d started again because of all the stress?

“Gerard?”

“I’m fine—It just hurt for a second. I’ll be okay,” Gerard said, smiling through a grimace—looking like he really thought he could convince Frank that everything was perfect. 

“Why do your thighs hurt?” Frank asked, watching his face closely. Even with his eyes hidden by those stupid sunglasses, Frank could still see how nervous Gerard became. 

“They’re sore from working truck,” Gerard said, barely sounding confident in his lie. 

“You’re lying,” Frank said, observing the way Gerard pressed his lips together.

“Baby, it’s nothing.”

Frank’s heart was pounding—fear and anger both flooding him as he tried to make sense of what was happening. Gerard had started cutting again. Frank _knew_ it.

“You—you cut yourself, didn’t you!?” Frank asked. He didn’t want Gerard to lie to his face. He wanted him to just admit it so they could _work on this._ They had to work on it… He didn’t want to lose Gerard because he’d made such a reckless mistake. 

“You don’t need to worry about—”

“I’m your boyfriend!—I’m your boyfriend, Gerard! How can you sit there and tell me not to worry about it? You _hurt_ yourself.”

“Well, it’s not—”

“Is it because of me?” Frank asked, unable to sit there and listen as Gerard tried to downplay it all.

“Now why would you go and say that?” Gerard asked, his voice strained. 

“It was, wasn’t it?”

“Frank, we don’t need to talk about this right now—”

“Yes we do!” Frank snapped. “I have a right to know!”

“Stop _yelling at me,”_ Gerard said, his tone hurt but still firm. It made Frank bite back what he’d planned to say next. “What did you think was going to happen, Frank? I love you! You’re my whole fucking world. Did you seriously think when you—when you did that shit that it wasn’t going to hurt anybody!?”

“How do you think it makes _me_ feel!?” Frank retorted, deflecting Gerard’s question. He couldn’t remember the night he’d tried to take his life. He couldn’t remember _anything_ about it let alone what he’d been thinking. Had he thought about Gerard when he’d poisoned himself? 

Frank didn’t want to deal with the consequences of saying no—no he hadn’t considered Gerard’s feelings at all. No, he’d never imagined that what he’d done would make Gerard upset, or make Gerard hurt himself…

“I know how it feels, Frank! Because I went through it! Only you were dead! Your heart stopped! You have no idea what _that_ feels like! To love someone with everything you have and then _lose_ them and not know why!—not know if you did something or you missed something that could’ve stopped it.”

Gerard had started crying and Frank ducked his head, unable to face the amount of pain he’d caused. For weeks they’d been keeping him sheltered and he knew that he had to learn what happened and deal with the consequences, but it was hard. 

“Yes, I started cutting. And, yeah, it’s because of all the shit that happened, but… Fuck. Frank, don’t worry about it. I stopped.”

Frank looked down at his lap and chewed his lower lip. He felt ashamed and guilty. Gerard told him he’d stopped, but Frank didn’t believe him. If his legs were still hurting, the wounds were either infected or fresh… And what about the bandage he’d had on his arm? The one he claimed was caused by a strained wrist…

“Did you cut anywhere else?” Frank asked, his voice quiet. He wanted to come up with a more delicate way to ask, but his mind was so clouded all he could manage was bluntness. He wanted to know what had happened since he’d been put in the hospital, even if it hurt. 

“What does it matter?” Gerard muttered.

He had… Frank knew that deflecting the question meant that he had. He’d cut his wrist, then he’d passed out in Frank’s hospital bed claiming to be hung over—he’d gone to the ER after that and claimed they pumped his stomach and that he’d been unconscious.

What if he’d passed out from blood loss? What if that bandage was soaking up blood, not nursing a sprain? All Gerard wore around him were long sleeves and sweaters now—hiding his arms from view. 

“I love you,” Frank whispered, feeling like his words meant next to nothing. They’d had love before, but he’d ruined it now. He’d made Gerard turn on himself and start cutting again. He’d been reckless and impulsive and nearly took Gerard down with him. 

He’d almost killed Gerard…

“I love you, too, Baby,” Gerard said, his tone not even sad. He still meant it. Somehow, despite all the shit and suffering Frank put him through, Gerard still loved him. “Frank?”

“Hm?” Frank still stared at his lap, unable to face Gerard or look him in the eye.

“We’ll get through this, Frank. You know that, right?”

Frank shrugged, then leaned over to put his head on Gerard’s shoulder. He wanted to comfort Gerard the way Gerard always comforted him, but he had no idea of what to say—or how to act. He was sorry he’d done it. He wished he could take it back… He wished he knew why it happened. 

Gerard wrapped his arms around Frank and pulled him closer, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll be fine. Let’s just get you better.”

“I want you to be better,” Frank said softly. 

“One day at a time,” Gerard said, coaxing Frank into laying back with him on the bed.

Frank tried, but he couldn’t feel secure in the embrace this time. He felt anxious, his stomach tight and burning. What if Gerard went home and got upset again? What if something happened to him and Frank wasn’t there?

Was this really how Frank had made Gerard feel every day for so, so long?—Anxious and helpless? What kind of a relationship was that? 

Frank whimpered and buried his face in Gerard’s chest, trying so hard to think of anything he could do to make it all go away. He didn’t want to lose Gerard—in any way. He didn’t want Gerard to die, but he didn’t want Gerard to dump him either…or have to leave him. 

He just felt that there was no coming back from this, no matter how optimistic Gerard seemed. It was selfish and immature, but Frank relied so much on Gerard and he was worried about how things would work between them now that he couldn’t lean on him so heavily. Gerard would never be weak in Frank’s eyes, but he no longer seemed like a reliable, indestructible confidant. He didn’t want to tell Gerard something if it could hurt him…kill him. 

Frank couldn’t survive without Gerard and it was frightening to him—terrifying to him—that it seemed Gerard couldn’t live without him either. Frank didn’t know how to handle love like that. His whole life—every day of it before Gerard, before Donna really—he’d been hated. His mother resented him for being born, his father abandoned him. Even his grandmother’s lip curled in disgust at the sight of him. Donna was the first person to tell him “I love you,” but Gerard was the only one who really _meant_ it. 

Donna cared about him, but Gerard… Gerard adored him. Gerard needed Frank the same way Frank needed him.

“Gerard?” Frank whispered, desperate to put an end to his spinning thoughts.

“Hm?”

“Do you think I’ll get to come home soon?”

“Another week or two maybe,” Gerard whispered, sniffing softly as he pulled Frank a little closer. 

“Then we can go on dates again on the nights you don’t work,” Frank proposed.

“I… Yeah,” Gerard said, sounding hesitant.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just…money’s tight for me right now so…probably just coffee dates. Would that be okay?”

“It could be a walk around the block and I’d be happy,” Frank said. “You know that.”

“Yeah…”

“I would.”

“I know,” Gerard said, nuzzling him. 

“Maybe we could go driving together,” Frank proposed. “You could teach me… You’re probably better than Don.”

“Yeah… We both know my car’s a piece of junk. Wouldn’t matter if you scratched it.” Gerard’s soft chuckle was the only thing that kept the comment from sounding like an insult or a jab at Frank’s poor driving record. 

“But you’d be with me.”

“So?”

“Don’s all old…you’re cute. You’d distract me and make me crash more.”

Gerard made a quiet noise and started holing Frank a little tighter. 

“Don’t talk about crashing. You’ve been in the hospital enough.”

Frank sighed and let his eyes close as Gerard held him against his chest. He wished they could just stay like this—exist like this—forever. Nothing to hurt them. Nothing to stress them or break them apart. Just peace and quiet and each other’s company.


	81. Chapter 81

_81_

Frank was coming home. The idea should’ve filled Gerard with joy the way it did the rest of his family, but it just served to terrify him. He’d managed to pick up a new job, but being a late night gas station clerk in Jersey wasn’t exactly ideal—but it was all he could get with the black mark on his employment record. He hoped he could be hired on to Spend N Save again in the next quarter, but he would have to go through the application process again and wasn’t guaranteed a spot…

Even with a new job procured, Gerard was still very much in debt. He had mounting bills for his therapist that a part time job could barely cover, not to mention all the new bedding he’d had to buy to hide the evidence of his cutting. 

How was he going to manage to keep how serious it had gotten a secret from Frank?—Or was that even possible anymore? Frank knew he was cutting, knew he’d passed out from it… There was no way to hide how much of a mess Gerard had become in his absence and he was so afraid of how Frank would respond to him now. Gerard wasn’t his unbreakable protector anymore.

Gerard wasn’t _anything_ anymore. 

He spent his days cleaning up his bedroom, trying to hide all the signs of the darkness that had settled over him in the boy’s absence. He threw away art, bedding, clothes—even books he’d tried reading to calm himself when Frank was gone. He didn’t want to make Frank’s homecoming uncomfortable. He didn’t want to be a source of stress. He didn’t want to look like someone Frank needed to tiptoe around.

He wanted to go back to being the supportive, protective boyfriend. He wanted it to go back to the way it was before everything had gone so…wrong. 

Gerard wanted to be the one to bring Frank home from the hospital, but his parents had to be the ones to sign the release forms and Frank’s father wanted to be there as well. There wouldn’t be enough room in the car for all of them and Gerard agreed to stay home. It gave him more time to prepare for Frank…

He made sure Frank’s bed was made and that all of his clothes were put away—his things in order so he could come home to a sense of peace instead of chores needing done. Upstairs, dinner was simmering in the slow cooker, Mikey was watching television with Zoe, and everything was in order. 

Now he just had to wait…

For over an hour he waited and waited until finally he heard Mikey call from upstairs.

“They’re back!”

Gerard looked himself over, straightening his hoodie as if it were a suit jacket, and then hurried up the stairs, still brushing invisible lint off his dark jeans. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen Frank nearly every day since he’d woken up, but he still felt so anxious to have him back in the house. 

Gerard stood in the kitchen, unable to take his eyes off the door. He could hear his mother talking loudly to someone and laughing, then the door burst open after Don stepped in came Frank. 

Zoe reached him first, jumping up and nearly knocking him over. She was barking ecstatically and licked at his face, getting her tongue in his mouth as he laughed. 

“Down, Zoe! Down! Let him get in the house!” Their mother called, holding Frank by his shoulders to keep him from falling down. Zoe finally stayed on all fours, but kept her head craned back to stare at Frank, her tongue hanging out of her mouth. After Donna came inside, Frank’s father stepped in behind her and shut the door. 

Once he was free of Zoe, Frank spotted Gerard and grinned at him, opening his arms for a hug as he closed the distance between them. 

“Hi, Baby,” Gerard whispered, kissing Frank’s cheek while keeping an eye trained on Frank’s father. The man may have appeared supportive of their relationship when Frank had been in the hospital, but now that he was home things could change in an instant. Frank’s condition wasn’t so fragile now and he would be able to handle it if his father started saying he didn’t want him and Gerard to be together. 

“I missed you!” Frank said, hugging Gerard as tight as he could—as if they hadn’t seen each other the day before. 

“I missed you too,” Gerard said, letting Frank go as everyone shuffled into the living room. Gerard gave Frank his space so Mikey could greet him and catch him up on more of the things he’d missed since he’d been away from the house. 

They sat on the couch together with Frank in the middle and Zoe eager to get into Frank’s lap no matter how big she was. Frank’s father sat in the chair adjacent to the corner of the couch on which Gerard sat while Don sat in his recliner. Donna stayed behind in the kitchen to start on the rest of their dinner and though Frank kept looking over his shoulder at the doorway, he didn’t get up to help her. 

Frank’s father and Don spoke politics at one another while Mikey filled Frank in on his new relationship with a girl different than the one he’d been crushing on in his English class for months. They’d met when Mikey applied for work at a local pizza shop and though he didn’t get the job, he did get a girlfriend. He’d yet to bring her around the house, but he would before too long. Frank would want to meet her, after all. 

The whole time, Gerard sat at Frank’s side and kept a hand on his knee, stroking it gently. He did the same at dinner, smiling at Frank whenever the boy looked up at him. He couldn’t wait until Frank’s father went home and he had the boy to himself. Just to go down to their room and hold him close and be able to sleep with him there and wake up with him there—that closeness was something he’d never take for granted again. 

( ) ( ) ( )

It felt strange to be back in his room. Everything was cleaned and put away, Gerard had new blankets and bed sheets, and none of his work polos were laying around or draped over their desk chairs. There was a bottle of laundry soap sitting on top of the washing machine, but no bleach or stain remover anywhere to be seen in that far corner of their basement bedroom. 

“You cleaned up a lot,” Frank said, coming over to sit on Gerard’s bed. Zoe jumped onto the bed beside him and licked his face until he pushed her back and kissed her on the nose. 

“I had to. I didn’t want my Baby coming home to a mess,” Gerard said gently, leaning down to kiss Frank on the lips. Frank kissed back happily and moved to lay down on the bed, hoping Gerard would come lay with him. “Do you like the new sheets?”

“Yeah,” Frank said, smiling up at him and wiggling around on the mattress until Gerard took off his shoes and laid down next to him. “You told me you had a gift for me,” Frank added after Gerard crawled over top of him.

He hoped the gift was something a little more… _physical_ than what he’d been able to get while he was in the hospital—especially since his father had left and everyone else was upstairs watching television. 

“Oh, right,” Gerard said, climbing off the bed. Frank rolled his eyes and let out a heavy sigh, waiting impatiently for Gerard to come back. “I hope you like it. It’s…different.” 

Gerard handed Frank a small box wrapped in dark blue paper—the kind they sold at the Spend N Save. Frank sat up as he took the box into his hand and started unwrapping it. The first thing he was met with when he pulled back the flaps was a package of candies—the sort of sugary treats they wouldn’t let him have at the hospital—and under those was a tiny stuffed dog that looked a little bit like Zoe. 

Frank looked at Gerard skeptically, flattered by the gift but a little confused by it. It was far from the sort of thing Gerard normally gave him. 

“There’s more,” Gerard said, smiling and kissing Frank’s cheek.

Frank looked back down at the box which appeared to be empty except for a folded up piece of paper.

“Is it a letter?” Frank asked, pulling out the paper.

“Just look at it and see,” Gerard said, laughing softly and nuzzling Frank’s hair. 

Frank rolled his eyes as he unfolded the piece of sketchpad paper but still didn’t know what to make of it. It was a drawing of a jack o’ lantern, sneering at him—odd for a present.

“What is this?” Frank asked, looking the drawing over. The lines were all very solid, very minimal shading. It was different from Gerard’s usual style…much different.

“You like it?”

“Yeah…but what is it?”

“Well… I thought that since your birthday is on Halloween, you might like something festive for your birthday.”

“My birthday isn’t for another couple months,” Frank said, squinting at the drawing. What did his birthday have to do with his coming home present?

“I know.”

“Gerard, what is this?” Frank asked again.

“You can tell me if you don’t like it, but I thought…for your birthday, I’d take you to get a tattoo of _anything_ you want. Any design, anything. I can draw something for you or you can find something online you like—”

“Really?” Frank asked, his eyes going wide as he stared at the sneering jack o’ lantern. He didn’t know how Gerard had found out about him wanting to get a tattoo since he hadn’t mentioned it to anyone, but the idea made him so excited. Gerard really did know him so well.

“Yeah. Anything you want.” Gerard kissed his head again and Frank couldn’t hide his smile. He turned around and kissed Gerard on the lips, his mind brimming with all the different possibilities. “You like the idea?”

“Yes!” Frank exclaimed, kissing Gerard on the mouth again and scrambling to sit in his lap. It relieved him when Gerard didn’t flinch the way he had before—back when his cuts were fresh. “Do you think Mom would be okay with it though?”

“You’ll be eighteen. She can’t stop you,” Gerard said, smiling. 

“But I don’t want Mom mad at me,” Frank said, looking from Gerard to the sketch of the pumpkin. It was growing on him, even though he tried to resist his interest in things his real mother would have considered demonic. It reminded him of _The Nightmare before Christmas_ and Jack Skellington. 

“She won’t get mad,” Gerard said, pressing another kiss onto Frank’s cheek. 

“You’d really take me to get a tattoo?” Frank asked.

“Of course.”

“Of _anything_ I want?”

“Anything…tasteful. Nothing that _would_ piss off our mom. You know, no phallic symbols or curse words. At least not anywhere she can see,” Gerard said, winking as Frank snuggled up against him. 

“So I can get _anything_ I want,” Frank said, kissing the underside of Gerard’s chin until his boyfriend kissed him back.

“Anything within reason, Baby,” Gerard said, laughing a little.

“Can I get it anywhere I want?” Frank asked.

“Not on your face,” Gerard said. “Other than that, my Baby can have whatever he wants.”

“So…my arm?”

“Sure.”

“What about my leg?—My knee?”

“Anywhere, Baby.”

“The back of my neck?”

“What did I just say?” Gerard asked, chuckling again and wrapping Frank up in his arms, squeezing him tightly. 

“What if we got matching tattoos?” Frank asked.

“Uh…maybe not that. I’m not so good with needles. You know that.”

“I think I’m going to get your name tattooed on my face—how about that?” Frank asked, grinning as he watched Gerard grimace. 

“Fuck no.”

“No? But I want everyone to know how much I love you,” Frank said, giggling as he kissed Gerard’s face. 

“Well you can find a different way to do that that doesn’t involve my name in your skin.” 

They talked for a long time before Gerard decided to put in a movie for them to watch before Frank got his shower and they went to bed. When the lights were finally off, Frank curled into bed beside his boyfriend, unable to keep the smile off his face. Zoe was sleeping between their legs, her chin on Frank’s calf, keeping them from getting too close but Frank didn’t mind. 

They’d have time to get _closer_ later. Tonight he was just happy to have Gerard all to himself into the morning and then even more the next day. It felt strange to be home after spending so much time in the hospital, but it was better—much better. There was no bright beam of light bleeding in from the hallway, no stiff hospital sheets. It was warm here and Gerard was beside him with an arm around him. Every now and then he’d twitch awake and squeeze Frank a little tighter as if making sure he was really still there. 

Frank would kiss Gerard’s hand whenever that happened, unwilling to move his head from its comfortable pillow on Gerard’s shoulder. Gerard would just sigh happily and go back to sleep for a while before the next shock woke him up.

( ) ( ) ( )

It felt like Frank had swallowed a heavy weight as he watched Gerard ready himself for work. He was dressed in light wash jeans, not the black slacks he usually wore, and his Spend N Save polo was nowhere to be seen. 

“Do you…work truck tonight?” Frank asked, titling his head as he watched Gerard dress.

“No,” Gerard said, offering no further explanation for his strange attire. 

Frank knew right away that Gerard no longer worked at the Spend N Save—not as a loss prevention officer anyway. It made him anxious and sick to his stomach. Frank _knew_ Gerard had either lost his job or given it up while Frank had been in the hospital. 

He’d caused his boyfriend to lose his job—the job he loved. 

“Gerard?” Frank called, wanting Gerard to talk to him even if he knew they didn’t have time for a conversation. 

“What, Babe?” Gerard asked, his voice a heavy sigh. He didn’t want to discuss it. He sounded irritated that Frank was even daring to ask.

Frank didn’t say anything else. He took out his cell phone and started pretending to search something online so Gerard wouldn’t feel compelled to pressure him to speak his mind. They didn’t have time to discuss it… Gerard would just get frustrated at him and Frank didn’t want to start getting in trouble so soon after coming home. He wanted to savor the peace and quiet as long as he could and continue to pretend that nothing bad had ever happened. 

“I’ll be back around eleven,” Gerard said, coming over to the bed and kissing Frank’s cheek.

“Eleven? That’s so late!” Frank called.

“Well, it’s an eight hour shift.” His tone was firm, making it even more apparent that he didn’t want to discuss the issue. 

Frank knew he could always go upstairs and ask Donna or Mikey about it after Gerard left, but he stayed in the basement until dinner time and didn’t bother to say anything. Wherever Gerard was working, he couldn’t keep it a secret forever. Frank knew he’d discuss it when he was ready and it was better for both of them if he didn’t try to push it. He couldn’t handle the stress a fight anyway…

After dinner, Frank went upstairs to Mikey’s room to practice guitar. It was hard to get his fingers to move along the strings with the ease that they used to, especially with his mind distracted by so many other things. Not to mention the tremors that would ripple through his hands if he worked them for too long. He was starting to feel that maybe he’d done more damage to himself than he realized when he’d swallowed the poison. His muscles would jerk or twitch at random—though usually it flared the most when he stressed—ranging from a slight quivering in his lip that he couldn’t quite control to his fingers curling on their own. 

He didn’t tell Donna or even Gerard about it, knowing there wasn’t anything that could be done. Nurses had documented it in the hospital during his physical therapy and nothing ever came of it. He didn’t want to worry Gerard or cause the family any more stress. Whenever Mikey asked if he were nervous, Frank would just shrug and flex his hands before going back to the guitar strings. 

After practicing for a couple of hours, he and Mikey settled into playing video games—though Frank’s hand tremors continued to cause his grief—until Gerard got home. Frank waited a few minutes after hearing the door open and close downstairs before beginning the slow retreat to his and Gerard’s room. 

“Hey,” Gerard said, looking over his shoulder as Frank stepped down into the room. 

“Hey. How was work?” Frank asked.

“Fine… It was kind of slow tonight.”

“At the store?” Frank asked, trying to ease back into the discussion without getting Gerard frustrated with him again.

“The gas station,” Gerard said with a heavy sigh. He set his keys and wallet down on his desk, then sent a text message before walking over to his bed and sitting down. 

Frank stayed by the stairs watching him until Gerard gestured for him to come over. Frank sat down beside him, but Gerard put his arms around him and pulled Frank into his lap, placing his chin on Frank’s shoulder.

“So…do you like working there?” Frank asked, leaning back against Gerard’s chest. 

“It’s okay. I don’t plan to make it permanent, but I needed a job.”

“Oh…” Frank wanted so badly to ask what happened, but he was afraid he already knew. Gerard had gone back to cutting and it was likely his depression kept him from making it to work on time. Frank had caused him to lose his job—the job he loved—and it filled him with so much guilt it was nearly unbearable. 

“Spend N Save said they might hire me back at the start of the year if there’s a position open… I’m hoping they will.”

“That’s… That’s a good thing,” Frank said softly, holding one of Gerard’s hands while his boyfriend nuzzled his neck. They needed to talk about this, but Frank didn’t want to push it. He was worried about Gerard. The last thing Frank wanted was to trigger him or upset him.

“It’s not your fault. You know that, right?—Me changing jobs?”

“I…I guess,” Frank mumbled.

“I know it probably feels that way to you, but this kind of thing…it’s inevitable, you know? With my anxiety and depression issues, it was bound to happen eventually.”

“Yeah, but it wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t—”

“But it would’ve happened eventually,” Gerard interjected. “I’ve been on a downward spiral for a while. I was on one before I even met you.”

“Yeah, but—”

“No, Frank. Please, listen to me. What happened was awful for me, I’m not denying that, but these problems…I’ve had them a long time. I don’t manage my anxiety or my depression. Usually I just drink until I sleep, and sleep until I have somewhere to be. That’s _my_ problem. It has nothing to do with you or what you did. If anything…” Gerard paused to take a heavy breath before nuzzling Frank’s shoulder. “If anything, that whole thing just gave me the push I needed to actually face my problems. I’m meeting with a therapist again, I have new prescriptions… Things are different, but they’re not bad. Not anymore.”

“You almost died though! You almost bled out—”

“I know that, but I’ve been there before this too. I’ve lost jobs before, Frank. I had to quit school… I’ve never been the most _stable_ person. And it’s not because of you. To be honest, I was using you as a crutch for a really long time. I never had to worry about my problems because I was focusing on yours.”

Frank lowered his head, trying to push down the pain that started welling in his chest. He never meant to be so much of a burden that Gerard couldn’t even focus on his own health. If he’d just said something, if he’d even hinted before the whole mess that he’d been having problems, Frank would’ve listened. He wanted to be useful. He wanted to feel helpful and worthwhile…now he just felt like deadweight. 

“Look, I lost my job because I didn’t make any effort to get help when I felt myself slipping. I got depressed and just let myself wallow in it.”

“But you wouldn’t have even been like that if it weren’t for me—”

“Baby, it’s _complicated._ I just want you to know that my problems aren’t because of you. We both have things about ourselves that we need to work on and…I think we can work on them together, you know? Not just one sided anymore.”

“I never meant for it to be one sided,” Frank said, turning around in Gerard’s lap so he could face him. 

“I know that. And that’s on me, okay? I was the one who never came to you with any of my problems—except, you know, getting punched at work or something stupid like that. I never told you… I guess I never told you how much it affected me when I saw you getting depressed. And I don’t say that because I want you to stop opening up to me—please, _please_ don’t keep secrets from me. I just need to start opening up to you more about myself so we can support each other.”

Frank tried to think of something to say, but his mind was racing. He was still trying to make sense of what had landed him in the hospital in the first place, now he was worrying about what he’d put Gerard through while he’d been gone. He never meant for this to happen. He never meant to make it so Gerard couldn’t talk to him about his problems. 

“Frank, please listen to me.”

“I am…”

“Nothing that happened while you were in the hospital was your fault, okay?”

“How can you say that!? I was stupid and it got you hurt!” Frank snapped, the tears finally making their way to his eyes. 

“I got hurt, but I’m the one who chose to wait until the very last minute to get help for myself. I’m just happy you’re home now and we can get better—both of us.” 

Frank whined and leaned back more heavily against Gerard’s chest. He didn’t know what to make of this and it was so hard when he didn’t even know what set him off all those months ago. It was so hard for him to work through this when he didn’t even know all the details. Gerard had acted as though he felt responsible, but he spoke nothing of that guilt now. 

“Gerard?”

“Hm?”

“Do you… Do you know what made me…you know.” Frank felt so uncomfortable asking, but he felt if there was ever a time to bring it up, it had to be now.

Gerard sighed heavily and tightened his arms around Frank’s waist. 

“I don’t know… A lot happened that day. If you don’t remember—”

“I need to know!” Frank snapped, blinking back his tears. He hated not having any idea what caused all of this. He didn’t know if they’d fought and he needed to apologize, or if his mother had sent him something or his _grandmother._ “I hate being in the dark, Gerard. I want to know.”

“Fine. Fine…” Gerard kissed the back of Frank’s neck a couple times before he started speaking again, but kept his lips close to Frank’s shoulder as though trying to muffle his voice as though he hoped Frank wouldn’t hear. “Mom and Dad were fighting that day…you got in the middle of it and Dad yelled at you. Your phone got cracked… I tried to talk to you about it, but you said you were fine. We made love and then…you were just gone.”

Frank bit his lip and pulled himself out of Gerard’s lap, moving to sit beside him. He expected something worse than that—he expected something to do with his mother or a physical attack.

“Did Don hit me?”

“No—Mom says he didn’t put a hand on you. I don’t know what he said to you or if he even had anything to do with it. You seemed okay when we went to bed… I really hope I didn’t hurt you.” Gerard looked over at him, his eyes full of so much pain and worry.

“I don’t think you hurt me. It was probably…Don.” Frank honestly couldn’t remember, but he didn’t want to believe that there was even a possibility Gerard could have hurt him so badly that he’d make an attempt—make a mostly successful attempt. “You know I don’t like to get in trouble.”

“Yeah,” Gerard said, turning his eyes away. They sat in silence for a while, then Gerard reached over and put his hand on Frank’s knee. Frank slowly set his hand on top of Gerard’s and squeezed it gently.

“I love you,” Frank whispered. 

“I love you, too, Baby,” Gerard said, leaning over to kiss Frank’s cheek. “I’m going to go take a shower then come to bed. Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah,” Frank said, squeezing his hand a little tighter.

“You sure? I can wait until morning.”

“I’ll be fine,” Frank said, leaning up kiss Gerard on the lips. “Just don’t take long, okay?”

“Okay,” Gerard said, flashing a small smile before pecking Frank on the lips one final time. “I’ll be right back.” He stood from the bed and collected his night clothes, but still seemed reluctant to leave Frank alone.

“I can’t come with you,” Frank said, trying to force a laugh for his boyfriend as he laid down on the bed. “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay. I’ll be quick.”

“I’ll be here,” Frank said, shifting around to get Gerard’s pillow under his head. Gerard stared at him a little longer before finally starting up the basement stairs. Not even thirty minutes later he’d returned, his hair dripping wet as if he hadn’t even bothered to take the time to dry it before hurrying back to the bedroom. 

Frank smiled at him and made room on the bed, waiting for Gerard to turn off the light and come to lay beside hm. He’d already changed into his pajamas while Gerard had been in the shower, so as soon as Gerard laid down, Frank was able to curl up next to him for his kiss goodnight. 

“So…which gas station are you working at?” Frank asked.

“The one across from Spend N Save,” Gerard said with a small, forced laugh. 

“I’ll have to come visit you sometime.”

“Watch me ring up beer and candy and argue with people about how you have to prepay or I can’t release the hold on the pump. Yeah… Great show.”

“It’d be a good show for me,” Frank said, kissing Gerard’s cheek and neck over and over until he got Gerard to kiss him on the mouth. Frank pulled on Gerard’s shoulder until the man was overtop him, making the kiss a little deeper before Gerard pulled away. 

“I’m going to have to take you on a date again soon,” Gerard said, reaching over to pet Frank’s hair—smiling at him in the dark.

“Yes,” Frank said, smiling back just as much. 

“I love you, Baby.”

“I love you, too,” Frank said, snuggling as close as he could and closing his eyes. Things were going to be different now, Frank knew, but he hoped they could move past this. He hoped they could get better—get stronger—and help each other like Gerard had said.

He didn’t see Gerard as that indestructible, unwavering force anymore. He knew he had to start taking better care of himself, just so he wouldn’t stress Gerard out so much, but that seemed easier said than done. Frank always relied on Gerard—for everything. It was a scary thought to have to care for himself, all on his own, to avoid putting that extra weight back on Gerard’s shoulders…but it was something he was just going to have to do.


	82. Chapter 82

_82_

Frank knew Gerard wasn’t going to like it—was going to have a lot, a _lot_ to say about it, but Frank was just so tired of spending every night at home doing the same old things. Every night Gerard was at work, Frank either practiced guitar with Mikey or played video games. Sometimes Jamia would come over and they’d sit downstairs and watch a movie or something, but even that had grown so mundane. He had nothing new to say to Jamia and even though he loved her company, he was getting bored with hearing the same stories over and over. 

So when Donna had taken him out grocery shopping and there was a table by the front doors covered in different job applications, Frank couldn’t resist the impulse to fill one out. He listed Ellen and Ray as his only references, and with such a short history he never expected to be considered for a position—even if his reason for leaving his last job had been an injury and not being fired. Donna had only let him turn in the application because she believed they wouldn’t hire him.

Except a few days after he submitted the application, he’d gotten a call asking if he were interested in an interview. Without even thinking he’d agreed to one at three o’clock the next afternoon, then had to work up the courage to ask Donna if she’d take him. Honestly, he’d expected her to tell him no, that she didn’t want him working because he needed more time to “recover,” but she’d actually seemed excited and had agreed readily. 

Gerard had work that afternoon and Frank was able to keep his secret. He didn’t want to hear Gerard’s lecture or have Gerard worry about him pushing himself too much. He also didn’t want to let Gerard down if it turned out the interview didn’t go well and he didn’t end up getting the job.

So, for the first time, Frank was able to keep a secret from Gerard—a secret he was excited about, anyway.

Donna made sure the day of the interview that he was dressed well and that his hair was trimmed up nicely. It had turned into an awful mess when he’d been in his coma yet he hadn’t bothered to really fix it. 

Actually, he’d rather liked the way his bangs hung down in his face. Donna, however, saw it as messy. She’d cut his hair as short as it had been when his mother would have it cut and he hated that—and he knew Gerard would hate it—but he couldn’t deny that the shorter hair made him look grown up. 

By the time he’d gotten to the store for his interview, Frank was practically shaking with nerves. Donna had sent him in with a bottle of water and told him to sip on it if he felt himself getting lightheaded. She was worried he would faint since it was one of the conditions on the list of possible health problems he might experience after his “medical crisis,” though Frank was sure the only thing that would make him pass out was embarrassment if he said or did something wrong. It wasn’t like his interview with Spend N Save which had pretty much been a formality. Ray just talked to him about the roles of the job and asked if he thought he could handle it. 

The grocery store’s hiring manager was a lot different from Ray though. She was older with a stern expression which almost immediately reminded Frank of his grandmother. He tried to hide how nervous he was by taking a drink, hoping the woman wouldn’t think it rude of him. Weren’t they supposed to offer water in interview or something anyway?—Or was it bad to take the water?

Frank didn’t know, but after speaking with the woman for a while, his nerves calmed a bit and things had begun to feel more natural. Had he liked his job at Spend N Save?—Even if he wasn’t there long? Frank had loved it and he told her so (though he left out the part about loving to work with Gerard specifically). He pretended his injury hadn’t happened on the job as Donna had suggested (so the interviewer wouldn’t think him reckless or clumsy), and focused primarily on what was so enjoyable to him at his last job. He liked the challenge of working fast and having races with Ellen to see how could put out the most stock. He liked being friends with his coworkers and was hopeful to have that friendly environment again.

The hiring manager was more than excited to hear that he was a “good team player” and enjoyed a competitive working environment. If he was hired, however, his challenge wouldn’t necessarily be stock every day but also “round-ups for charity” on the register. Did he think he could be trusted on the register?

Of course he could, he’d told her. Maybe it wasn’t what she’d been implying, but Frank assured her anyhow that he was never the type who would steal from where he worked or from anyone. He took the time to mentioned Gerard then and how much he’d admired him as a loss prevention officer. 

Everything he said seemed to be the right thing—must have been the right thing—because the very next Monday telling him the job was his if he wanted it. He would be trained on register first, then cross trained in stocking shelves. He would only get between sixteen and eighteen hours a week, but it was still money in his pocket and something to keep him occupied. 

Now that it was all settled though, Frank had to break the news to Gerard. That was something he was just _dreading._ There was no way to make this easy and Frank wanted so badly to send the message to Gerard in a text just so he wouldn’t have to face him. He couldn’t, though. And it wasn’t like Gerard was going to yell at him or hurt him. He’d just overreact and worry. 

Unable to put it off any longer, Frank laid in Gerard’s bed, waiting for him to come downstairs from his shower. Gerard never took long, and this shower seemed to end within five minutes. Gerard came back downstairs dressed in a baggy t-shirt and his pajama pants, black hair sticking to his face. 

“You’re not ready for bed yet?” Gerard asked, barely passing Frank a glance as he started sifting through papers on his desk until he found his debit card. Then he began the search for his wallet in order to put the card back in its proper place. 

“I need to talk to you about something—but promise you won’t freak out on me, okay?” It was such a foolish request. As soon as Frank told him he had something he needed to say, Gerard’s face went pale and he started to look like he might be sick.

“What’s the matter, Baby? Did something happen?”

“No—It’s not that. I told you, don’t freak out.” Frank made himself sit up to face Gerard when he sat beside him on the bed. Gerard placed his hand on Frank’s knee, rubbing it gently. “It’s nothing bad, I just… Well, Mom and I went to the store a few weeks ago and I applied for a job and they hired me. I… I start next week.”

“You… Wait—You applied for a job and didn’t tell me? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Frank rolled his eyes and turned away. 

“Because I didn’t want you to freak out.”

“I have a right to freak out! Do you really think you’re ready for that? You’ll be going back to school soon.”

“It’ll only be a few nights a week. It’ll give me some extra money and something to do when you’re not home. I get _bored_ just sitting here.”

“That’s fine, but you need more time to recover. You still get the tremors in your hands. Jobs are stressful. What if the tremors get worse?”

“Gerard, I’ll be fine,” Frank said, scooting closer and leaning his head onto Gerard’s shoulder. “I miss working.”

“I could’ve gotten your job back at Spend N Save. I’m sure they still need help with the freight. That place was hopeless.”

“I don’t want to work there if you’re not there. It would just make me feel bad.”

“I told you it’s not your fault I lost my job,” Gerard said, sighing heavily and pulling Frank against his chest. “I don’t like this, Frank. I don’t want you pushing yourself this hard. You haven’t been home that long.”

“I’ll be fine. It’s just cashiering and stocking. It’s not hard work.”

“I still don’t like it. I want to know you’re home where you’re _safe_ when I’m at work. It’ll drive me crazy not knowing what’s going on.”

“I start next week,” Frank said. 

Gerard let out a loud groan and set his head down on Frank’s shoulder. Frank could tell he was upset, but there was nothing he could do to console him besides promise everything would be okay.

“Just promise me if it gets too stressful that you’ll quit, alright? Promise me that?”

“Okay,” Frank said, rolling his eyes. Working wasn’t stressful for him. It was, in a weird way, consoling. He got out of the house, he did what was expected of him, and gave himself something to be proud of at the end of the day. Hopefully, with a little bit of time, Frank would be able to get Gerard to stop worrying and start seeing things his way…

( ) ( ) ( )

They were out shopping for pants—khaki pants for Frank’s work uniform. They’d given him a burgundy and beige polo to wear and a special name badge with a pinned on star and golden “Training” ribbon, but he had to buy his own pants and black shoes. Tennis shoes and Converse sneakers were too casual for the grocery store, it seemed, but as long as the shoes were solid black he could get away with wearing them. 

Gerard decided to take him to the mall to shop with Mikey (who had been given forty dollars to buy whatever he wanted) tagging along. It was seldom they all went out together, but Frank seemed happy to have his best friend with him. Frank sat in the passenger seat, but most of the drive turned around to talk to Mikey in the backseat. Gerard had honestly started to feel ignored until they got to the mall and Frank, for whatever reason, had gotten a burst of energy and started trying to climb onto his back. When his weight almost toppled Gerard over, Frank finally abandoned his efforts and settled for holding his hand instead. 

He seldom let go of it, either. Even when Mikey started walking with a fair bit of distance between them after the number of dirty looks they were given started making him self-conscious. They got lattes at the coffee kiosk, then wandered back and forth between the different stores looking for the best deal on khaki pants in Frank’s size.

Frank picked out a pair of black, slip-resistant shoes at the second store they visited and Mikey bought a hoodie on clearance for ten dollars. Gerard wasn’t really in the market for anything, trying to save up his money again now that he had to budget for food and gas and therapy sessions, but Frank kept trying to get him to buy different shirts and even a pair of skinny jeans. 

Gerard tried to smile as best he could when he refused Frank’s suggestions. He didn’t want Frank to think anything was wrong, but he also didn’t want to stand in the mall discussing how he couldn’t afford pants because he needed to meet with his therapist twice a month. 

After buying the shoes, Frank decided he wanted to get a pretzel to eat as they walked around and that was the only time he let Gerard’s hand go—because he couldn’t hold his latte and bag of shoes while also holding a pretzel. 

They looked around the music and movie store as Frank ate his pretzel. While Mikey was happy to wander off on his own throughout the store, looking at the different racks of CDs, Frank clung to Gerard—constantly hovering over his shoulder and nuzzling his arm. 

It was just like old times, Gerard thought. Especially when Frank would press even closer to him when any female would walk past them. He _knew_ Gerard only had eyes for men yet he was still so defensive around them, always seeming suspicious that the girls in the aisle with them would be _the one_ to take Gerard away. 

Mikey spent the rest of his money on CDs, but Frank showed no interest in any of the albums Gerard showed him and offered to buy. He had finished his pretzel and latte, and was ready to continue his search for the best deal on khaki pants. 

They found two pairs on clearance, then spent twenty-five dollars on a nicer, third pair. Those ones fit the best and Gerard couldn’t bear to put them back on the rack after seeing Frank try them on. They were tighter than the other two and so, _so_ flattering to his figure. It pained Gerard to see him change back out of them. 

There was a certain, strange spike of guilt that went through him whenever he saw Frank in that way anymore—even though he knew he should be rejoicing in Frank’s good health. Frank was alive and animated again, he was still in love with Gerard and they were still dating, so why did he need to feel disgusted with himself when the sight of Frank’s perfect body intrigued him? 

Frank seemed to notice Gerard’s interest, however, and started smirking at him after he’d changed back into his jeans. With the khakis and shoes purchased, they had no other reason to stay in the mall—especially since Mikey had spent all of his money too—they left and returned home. 

Their mother compliment Mikey on his new sweater, but rolled her eyes when she saw the bulk of CDs he’d purchased. She then turned her focus to Frank, admiring his new shoes then examining his new pants to make sure they were of the right quality. Gerard left her to it and went back down into the basement, waiting for Frank to join him. 

He let his mind wander, but most often he kept revisiting the image of Frank in those tight-fitting khakis. He’d lost a lot of weight when he’d been in the hospital and had kept it off since he’d returned home since his stomach was so sensitive. Most of his clothing was baggy now, even though he’d kept all the clothes he’d gotten since he’d been brought into their home. His old jeans fit again, but he seemed to be in between all of his different sizes—his smallest jeans far too tight, his second smallest still tight, and his larger sizes were too baggy. It couldn’t be healthy for a boy his age to have his weight fluctuate _so much…_

Gerard loved him no matter what his size—he’d love him if were six-hundred pounds and immobile—but it concerned him. He didn’t want Frank to develop any long-term disorders if his organ systems couldn’t keep up with the constant weight-gain and weight-loss. 

“Gerard?” It was Frank, calling to him from the top of the stairs.

“Yeah?” Gerard sat up and stared at the stairs, waiting for Frank to appear though the boy never did.

“Do you wanna take Zoe on her walk with me?”

Honestly, Gerard had better things in mind but he wasn’t about to argue. Time alone with Frank was time alone with Frank, whether they were in bed or out walking the streets with Frank’s favorite fur ball.

“Sure,” Gerard said, climbing out of bed and starting up the basement stairs. Frank smiled at him, already holding Zoe’s leash. The dog was wagging her tail excitedly, but remained seated on the floor—trying to look patient even though it was obvious she wasn’t. 

As soon as the back door was open, Zoe bolted out the door—yanking Frank along with her. She used to be so gentle on her walks, but ever since Frank had come home from the hospital her enthusiasm proved impossible to hide. She was more prone to jumping up onto people, barked a lot more to get attention, and made walks more like Olympic training sessions.

“I had a lot of fun today,” Frank said, taking Gerard’s hand in his as they fast-walked down the sidewalk. 

“Me too, Babe.” Gerard smiled at him, wishing Zoe would walk slower so he could press a kiss onto Frank’s temple without smacking their heads together. All he wanted was to hold Frank closer to him, be gentle with him, make him feel loved and appreciated so nothing bad happened to him. 

“Maybe when I start getting my paychecks, we can go out more.”

“I’d like that,” Gerard said. 

“Mom says I should save up for a car.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, but it’d probably take a long time to save up.” Frank sounded discouraged, but Gerard couldn’t help but smile. 

Their parents were planning to give Frank one of their cars as a gift when he got his license—though they hadn’t decided whether he needed a compact car or an SUV. As for Mikey, he was getting a used Pontiac Grand Prix for his birthday in September. He just didn’t know it yet. Their father had taken out a small loan from the bank to pay for it and had it in storage just to keep up the surprise. Most of it was already paid off, but expenses went up again when Frank came home so his payments on the loan weren’t so substantial anymore. (Fortunately, the state covered Frank’s medical expenses so the hospital bills didn’t crush the small family’s finances.)

Gerard honestly couldn’t wait to see Mikey’s reaction to his car. Even used, it was still in good condition. It needed to have the breaks done and a few minor repairs completed, but it looked _nice._ The perfect car to use to impress girls who might treat him better than the one he was talking to now, at least. 

It was even better, too, since Mikey had gotten irritated and jealous when he heard his parents discussing their plans to give one of their vehicles to Frank. It wasn’t fair, he said, for them to give Frank the car. Frank couldn’t even drive yet—Frank probably wouldn’t ever be calm enough behind the wheel of a car to drive. He’d been so _pissed,_ completely unaware of the shiny, black two-door car waiting for him just outside of town. 

Gerard could _not_ wait to see his face when he finally got that car.

“If I’m saving up, I can’t buy Zoe anymore sweaters when it gets cold out,” Frank said, seemingly talking to himself.

“Zoe doesn’t need sweaters. Spend money on things you need.”

“I don’t know if I really need a car, though,” Frank said. “Like…I plan to go to college after I graduate. Some schools won’t even let freshman bring their cars to campus.”

“You’re going to live on campus, huh? Leave me all alone with Mom and Dad?” Gerard asked, smiling so Frank would know he wasn’t serious. It would hurt to have Frank away from him, but it was good for the boy—it gave him a chance to meet people and branch out. He just worried that he’d branch out too far and meet someone else, someone better. 

“You could come with me. I’ll let you hide under my bed until my roommate goes to sleep, then you can sleep next to me.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out,” Gerard said, sighing in relief once Zoe slowed her pace to a calm walk. 

“Not really. I just make it up as I go.” Frank leaned against Gerard, tipping his head onto his shoulder and nuzzling it gently. 

“Do you already know where you’re wanting to go to school?” Gerard asked. They didn’t talk about it much—mostly because Gerard didn’t want to cause Frank any stress or pressure him to make such big decisions after his accident—but Gerard was curious. What if Frank wanted to study somewhere all the way across the country? Gerard could handle Frank going to school out of state so long as it was somewhere he could drive to within a day. If he was across the country, Gerard would just go crazy without him.

“Maybe… I don’t know. Nowhere expensive. Mikey says we should study at the community college, then go from there.”

“Not a bad plan. Saves some money.”

“I just don’t even know what to study. I’m not good at anything.”

“Don’t say that. You’re good at lots of things. It’s just a matter of figuring out what you’re good at and what you like. I’m good at art and I liked art—so I studied art for a year until I got kicked out.”

“I don’t want to get kicked out of school,” Frank said, giggling.

“You like animals. What if you went to school for that?”

“But if I went to be a vet or something, I’d have to put them to sleep and cut them open. I don’t want to _hurt_ them.”

“You could always be a groomer. You’d get paid to pet dogs all day.”

“Now _that_ would be fun,” Frank said, giggling to himself. When Frank laughed, Zoe perked up and leapt on him, wagging her tail—as if trying her hardest to be a part of his happiness. 

“You could do that, if you really wanted to.”

“Yeah, but you don’t even need to go to college for that.”

“Saves some money and you could still earn a living.”

“But Mom wants me to go to college…”

“They have animal and veterinary colleges. I see ads for them on the television all the time,” Gerard said, thinking back to the daytime TV ads that came on during breaks in his mother’s soap operas. What was the list of jobs they taught at those places? Behavioral training, lab technician, grooming—all kinds of things. Frank would probably love it. 

“I’ll have to look it up. They’re supposed to give seniors an assessment to see what fields you’re good in or something. Mikey was telling me about it.”

“Did he tell you his results were to be a teacher? That should tell you how accurate those assessments are.”

“True… I don’t know. I’ll ask Mom what she thinks.”

“You don’t need to ask Mom. It’s your future. You’ve got to make this decision on your own or you’re not going to be happy with the outcome. I don’t want you to go to school for four years and study something you hate because you feel you have to in order to make Mom proud. We just want you to be happy—and educated.”

“What about you though?”

“What about me?” Gerard asked, taken aback by the question. 

“Mikey’s going to college, I’ll be going after I graduate… What are you going to do?”

“Work. I threw out my chance.”

“You can always go back to school. I don’t like you working at the gas station.”

“I’m planning to go back to Spend N Save. They said they might hire me back—”

“I don’t want you to work at Spend N Save either! It’s not safe. You liked art—why not go back to studying it?”

“Because I couldn’t get a job in my field if I tried. I’m talented, but… I don’t know. I don’t have the passion I used to and it’s not coming back. My life’s different now. I don’t really want to spend the rest of my life in my basement drawing for other people. It doesn’t make me happy.”

“What would?”

“What would what?—Make me happy?”

“Yeah,” Frank said, looking at Gerard expectantly as they started walking back toward the house. 

“I don’t know. Seeing you happy.”

Frank’s only response was to roll his eyes. 

“What? Isn’t that good enough?”

“No one’s going to pay you for that,” Frank said.

“I know what you’re trying to get at, but that part of my life is over. I wasted my chance at college. Now all I want is to make sure you don’t do the same.”

“What if I don’t want to go to college though? What if I just want to go work at PetCo and groom dogs all day?”

“I’d say get over yourself, we’re enrolling you in the animal college they advertise on TV.”

“What if I won’t go unless you go back to school?”

“I can’t afford it—”

“You can get loans. I’ll have to get loans.”

“What would I even do if I went back to school? Business management?”

“You’d do whatever makes you happy,” Frank said, raising his eyebrows and smirking. 

“Guess I’m doing you then—because you make me happy,” Gerard said, shrugging and trying to keep the grin off his face. 

Frank laughed hard and rutted his head against Gerard’s shoulder again.

“Of _course_ you’d say that,” Frank said, still giggling.

“You walked into that one,” Gerard said, putting his arm around Frank’s shoulders and squeezing him tight. 

“Whatever,” Frank mumbled, leaning against Gerard the rest of their way home. 

It felt right, Gerard thought. It felt like they were back where they had been before everything fell apart. Sure, he knew that their issues couldn’t just disappear or dissolve, but they’d taken a break for a moment, it seemed. Frank had nothing to stress him and with Frank close and happy, Gerard was able to keep himself calm. Working at the gas station wasn’t stressful on most nights—aside from the usual bullshit he was used to putting up with—and knowing that he would be coming home to Frank always kept him optimistic. He hadn’t been feeling that crushing anxiety lately and his thighs had gotten a chance to heal without him breaking them open again. 

Things were looking up. Gerard dared to let that idea really sink in. Things were finally, _finally_ looking up.


	83. Chapter 83

Frank didn’t mind working at the grocery store. It wasn’t as relaxing at his work at the Spend N Save had been since he was constantly faced with customers and people, but it wasn’t a bad job. Sometime he would start to get anxious, but he’d taken to keeping a bottle of water with him and he’d calm himself down by taking a drink. He would get embarrassed whenever he saw someone from his school, afraid they’d ask where he’d been for so long since he’d been sick. Most of them, however, stood quietly beside their parents and avoided making eye contact with him. Jaima was always friendly when she and her family came through the line, and a couple girls from Frank’s old math class said hi to him every time he rang them up, but otherwise he felt like a polite robot. 

After a month of working there, Mikey got a job in the grocery store too. They always worked similar shifts and got to socialize with one another whenever the store was slow. Mikey didn’t seem to like the job very much, though, but he was just biding his time until the spring when he’d be enrolling in classes at the local community college. 

He was different at the store than he was at home, too. Seeing him interact with adults made Frank realize just how mature Mikey actually was compared to himself. Mikey never got anxious, even when the store was incredibly busy—and when he did get frustrated, his only tell was how high he’d hold his eyebrows, as if looking like he was surprised was better than glaring at everyone who came into his line. Frank had trouble keeping the concentrated scowl off his face after he’d had a difficult customer, but the managers never complained to him about it. 

When it came time for break, he and Mikey usually went at the same time so they could hang out in the breakroom, sharing snacks and talking about the memorable customers of the day before it was time to go back. 

After that first month, as well, Gerard had stopped being so anxious about Frank being out of his sight and out of the house. He came into the store all the time when Frank was working, coming through his line with a bottle of soda or a candy bar just so they could smile at each other.

Things were getting better between them at home as well, Frank felt. They talked more openly than he thought they ever had before—but mainly that was due to Gerard finally opening up to him. One time he even took Frank with him to one of his counseling sessions so he could open up about his self-harm. It was hard for Frank to hear, but he understood how Gerard felt in those desperate moments. He knew what it was like to feel like the world was falling down around him—he knew what if felt like to carry the heavy burden of guilt on his shoulders that no one else seemed to appreciate. 

Gerard seemed so afraid that Frank would relapse after hearing about his cutting, and Frank had to reassure him multiple times throughout that session and even after they got home that nothing bad was going to happen to him. He still got sad sometimes and still got stressed and self-conscious (especially after hard days at work), but he didn’t feel that need or urgency to end his life the way he had before. 

He would get spikes in his anxiety whenever he was left alone with Don for too long, but otherwise he was doing well on his new regiment of medications. Working seemed to help as well since it kept his mind from having all the free time in the world to wander and over-analyze. 

It boosted his confidence, too, whenever one of his managers would complement him or give him praise. Sometimes he even earned store coupons if he went out of his way to help a customer or handled a rough situation professionally. 

The only thing that left him a shaky, anxious mess these days was getting behind the wheel of a car. Don no longer went driving with him and Frank was thankful for that, but practicing driving in Donna’s SUV proved challenging and he was even more afraid of disappointing her than he was Don. He kept his composure, but deep down he was still afraid he’d scratch her vehicle and lose her affections. 

Sometimes Gerard would take him driving, especially now that he’d gotten a little better at it. He felt calmer with Gerard, in part because he knew how desperate Gerard was to keep him. No amount of damage to his car was going to make Gerard hate him. If he ever started to doubt that, he was quick to remind himself of the scars on Gerard’s thighs and what those markings irrevocably meant. 

“I was thinking we could drive a little father than normal today,” Gerard said as soon as Frank had pulled out of the driveway. “You know, because it’s nice out and all.”

“Okay,” Frank said, fearing that that meant they would have to take the highway. The busy roads made him so anxious—all the people rushing past, passing him, hitting the breaks in front of him. He hated the high speeds, always nervous he’d cause an accident or sit something and end up killing both of them and maybe even someone else in a fiery crash.

“If you drive like you’re going to go to the Spend N Save and turn left instead of right at that light, it’ll lead you to this little back road that takes us out of town,” Gerard said, fussing with his sunglasses and then pulling down the visor against the sun. 

Frank followed his instructions, relieved that they were taking backroads instead of city streets. The route Gerard picked was mostly empty on the Wednesday afternoon, and as soon as the urban area faded out, they were surrounded by fields and trees on both sides of road.

“Have you ever been out here before? The countryside?” Gerard asked, placing a hand on Frank’s knee. 

“Only when Momma would drive to Pennsylvania. I always liked the scenery. It’s…peaceful,” Frank said, daring to look away from the road long enough to sweep his gaze along the green fields to his left. The colors all looked so vibrant out here—the bluest of blues, greenest of greens. 

“I thought you might like it,” Gerard said, leaning his head back against his seat as if making to go to sleep. 

“Are we going anywhere in particular or…” Frank trailed off, glancing at Gerard then fixing his gaze back on the road.

“Not really. I just thought it’d be nice to get out for a while. Did you want to go somewhere? I can look something up on my phone—”

“No—this is nice. I need to practice driving. If we stop somewhere, I’m just going to get hungry.”

“Are you hungry? We could go back into town and get something to eat first—”

“We just had lunch,” Frank said with a giggle. He couldn’t deny, however, that the thought of eating again made his stomach rumble. He loved eating almost as much as he loved Gerard. There was seldom a moment he _wasn’t_ hungry, but he was desperate to keep off all the weight he’d lost while in his coma. He didn’t want to let his weight get out of control again the way he had when he’d first moved into the Way household. 

The drive was peaceful—pleasant. It was more for leisure than actual practice since there was little traffic to navigate through and the only stops were at stop signs in abandoned intersections. The more they drove, however, the darker the sky started to become. Big, puffy white clouds were starting to overcome the pale blue sky, turning the glowingly green grass a darker, saturated shade. 

They stopped at a gas station in a tiny, countryside town. There were quite a few trucks out front, covered in mud as if they’d been off-roading or driving in fields, but Frank was able to park between two of them without causing any damage or getting too close.

“You’ve gotten so good at this,” Gerard said, smiling at Frank as he unfastened his seatbelt. 

Frank basked in the praise as they went into the gas station for drinks. Gerard picked out a Diet Coke for himself, but Frank chose one of the bottled teas—pretending the sweet tea would be healthier for him than cola. Gerard also picked them up a couple of candy bars which they ate in the parking lot before getting back in the car. 

“Should we start heading back?” Frank asked after he’d carefully, very carefully backed out of the parking space and pulled onto the road. 

“If you want to…or we could just keep driving around. I’m having a good time.” Gerard smiled at him and Frank blushed, still trying to wrap his head around how happy it made Gerard just for them to be alone together. 

Frank agreed to drive around a little longer, enjoying it when Gerard finally turned the music up a little louder. The sky continued to grow darker until the rain began to fall—and once they’d driven into the rain shower, the downpour immediately began. 

Frank’s anxiety went from a zero to a ten, his visibility almost completely washed out no matter how fast the windshield wipers swiped across the glass. The noise of the rain on the roof of the car was loud enough to overpower the music—a steady roar that made him start shaking in the driver’s seat.

Gerard turned the music down and moved his hand from Frank’s knee to his shoulder, rubbing it while gently trying to calm him down.

“Baby, let’s just pull over okay?”

“Pull over?” Frank repeated, trying not to let his voice shake as he tried to distinguish what was road and what was grassy, muddy ditch. 

“Yeah. Just put the hazards on—this button here.” Gerard pressed a button at the center of the dashboard that made both of the turn signal lights start flashing. “There’s a lot of space over on this side. Just pull over into the gravel up there by the stop sign.”

Frank nodded his head and slowed the car even more before slowly pulling off in the direction Gerard pointed. He stopped a few feet back from the stop sign, the driver’s side of the car parked on the very edge of the road while the passenger side was nestled in the muddy grass beside the slowly flooding ditch. 

“Storms like this don’t last very long,” Gerard said, rubbing Frank’s shoulder a little more. “It’ll lighten up soon. You’re okay—you did so good, Baby. It’s fine. Alright? You’ll be okay.” 

Frank stared out at the rain, trying to calm his breathing. He was so afraid that another car would hit them now that they were stopped, but no other vehicles even passed them at the intersection. 

“Here. Let’s turn the car off, okay? The lights will stay on.” Gerard was the one who turned off the windshield wipers and then turned the key back until the engine went quiet. He left the key in the ignition so the lights kept flashing on the dashboard, then unfastened his seatbelt and did the same to Frank’s. “You’re okay, Baby.”

Frank nodded, then grabbed his tea and took a long drink to calm himself. Gerard was smiling at him when he set the bottle down again and Frank leaned over for a kiss, sighing when that simple, gentle contact drained the tension from his shoulders. Gerard started to pull back, but when a flash of lighting lit up the sky in front of them, Frank leaned forward to keep their lips together. 

Gerard sighed softly and let the kiss grow deeper, parting his lips to welcome Frank’s tongue. 

As the thunder grew more intense outside the car, Frank squirmed to get closer to Gerard—wanting the safety and comfort he found when they were sleeping together in bed. He wasn’t afraid of lightning and thunder—not when he was safe at home anyway—but in the car, surrounded by waves and waves of rain, he was nervous. What if the rain never stopped? What if the storm got worse and produced a tornado?—It wasn’t likely, but it was possible, wasn’t it?

Frank kept squirming around in the driver’s seat until Gerard gestured for him to climb into the back. They pushed aside discarded sweaters and fast food bags in order to make room for both of them on the seat, Gerard laying down while Frank crawled over top of him—trying to get more kisses while Gerard rubbed his back with both hands.

“What are you trying to do?” Gerard asked, laughing softly as Frank continued to kiss the corner of his mouth—then his chin and his jaw and his neck. “Babe—Baby, we can’t do anything here.”

Frank refused to be deterred. He wanted to feel secure and he wanted to get closer. He wanted to be as close as humanly possible. 

“Babe! Come on… Anyone could pull up at the stop sign!” Gerard protested, moving his hands from Frank’s back to start pushing at his chest until they were both sitting upright. “What if a cop pulls up to help?—We can’t get caught like that. It’s public indecency.”

“There’s no one out here—why would there be a cop out here in the middle of nowhere?” Frank asked, his voice coming out a lot whinier than he’d intended. It was embarrassing, but he didn’t care. There was something he wanted and he was going to take it. 

Frank scooted closer on the seat and wrapped his arms around Gerard’s shoulders, accepting the tight hug that followed as he rested his cheek in the bend of his boyfriend’s neck. They stayed that way for a while, Frank watching the flashes of lightning through the back window of the Gerard’s car. Then Frank started to make his move again, kissing and suckling at Gerard’s neck until _finally_ he got his boyfriend to cave and reciprocate. 

One of Gerard’s hands slid between their chests, coming to rest at an awkward angle between Frank’s legs—rubbing him firmly as Gerard shifted around to get more comfortable. Frank sighed and let himself be moved until Gerard had him up against the door. 

Frank couldn’t help but smile when the kisses Gerard was planting on his neck and throat started to dip lower and lower until his shirt was being pushed up and Gerard’s hot mouth had closed around one of his nipples. His hips bucked forward appreciatively against Gerard’s palm as soft moans escaped his lips. He let his head tip back against the cold window and closed his eyes, letting the waves of pleasure wash over him as Gerard began unfastening his jeans. He knew where this was heading and he loved it—they didn’t mess around as much as they used to before, and Frank reveled in any opportunity for closeness that he got. 

His sharp breaths filled the car over the pounding noise of the rain and crashes of lighting outside. He watched as the rain spattered against the glass of the widows through lidded eyes as Gerard swallowed him down, working fast but keeping his touches affectionate. Every now and then he would look up, making eye contact with Frank as he sucked on the tip of Frank’s cock. When his eyes started to slip closed, Frank would brace himself for the pleasure that came every time Gerard would take as much of his length into his throat as he could. 

Frank squirmed in his seat, trying not to buck his hips as the heat coiled in the pit of his stomach. He had one hand gripping the headrest of the driver’s seat while his other was tangled in Gerard’s black hair. At first he’d been stroking it, but then his fingers had started tightening and there was nothing more he could do until he’d come. His whole body tensed, but Gerard didn’t pull away—not even when Frank bucked into his mouth. He merely moaned in the back of his throat, sending the pleasurable vibrations along Frank’s shaft. 

It was still raining just as hard, even after Frank had finished, but Gerard seemed content to just cuddle up on the seat while Frank drew patterns with his finger on the foggy glass. A car pulled up to the stop sign and Frank stared at it a moment, his mind too hazy to feel concern. No sooner had the car stopped did it pull away again, turning left and disappearing into the rain. 

The thunder had stopped coming and after a few more minutes, the rain grew lighter and lighter yet. 

“We should head back home,” Gerard said, not moving from his place on Frank’s chest. 

“Mm.” Frank stared out the window a moment longer, then looked down at Gerard with a sleepy smile. 

“I’m surprised Mom isn’t calling,” Gerard then added, sitting up and taking his phone out of his pocket. “She texted though… Worried about the rain.” He typed a reply, then crawled into the front seat—leaving Frank to follow after him. 

After refastening his jeans, Frank wormed his way into the driver’s seat with a disappointed sigh. He’d really had enough of driving around, especially after the stress of the rain storm, and now he just wanted to sleep. He looked at Gerard, then glanced at the steering wheel and back to his boyfriend again, hoping he’d get the message. 

“You want me to drive, don’t you?” Gerard asked.

Frank didn’t have to answer. Gerard rolled his eyes and opened his door, causing the car to begin dinging—warning them that the key was still waiting in the ignition. 

“Making me do all the work today. I see how it is,” Gerard mumbled as Frank got out of the car as well. They hurried through the rain to trade seats, then closed their doors and started fastening their seatbelts. “I hope you were paying attention because I have absolutely no idea where we are right now.”

Frank giggled and took his phone out of his pocket, opening the navigation app and programming it to take them home as Gerard started the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter is so short. ): I'm trying to pick up another plot thread but nothing is really coming together no matter how much I brainstorm. Don't lose faith in me!!!


	84. Chapter 84

Frank… 

_His_ Frank.

Frank lay sleeping with his head on Gerard’s shoulder. Every now and then he would twitch or shift or lick his lips, but other than that he remained still. 

Frank, his beloved boyfriend who had just turned twenty the week before, was so heavy and warm on Gerard’s chest. Gerard would, every now and then, start stroking Frank’s hair or tracing the dark lines of ink staining his skin with his fingertips. Frank squirmed each and every time Gerard would outline the jack-o-lantern at the base of his neck. 

It had been his first tattoo and Gerard had gone with him to get it. The needles made Gerard squeamish, but Frank merely tensed up and widened his face as the sharp object dug at his skin. He would gasp every now and then, and had to stop halfway through to get a cup of water, but when it was over with he seemed proud of his accomplishment. He’d suffered through so much pain in his life, Gerard wasn’t surprised the tattoo hardly phased him at all. 

After that, more and more little tattoos would crop up on Frank’s skin. Sometimes they were ones he’d talked to Gerard about beforehand. Other times they were spur of the moment decisions, impulse buys he got permanently branded into his flesh whenever he and Mikey or he and Jamia went out on the town. Donna criticized a few of them, not liking how “irrelevant” they were or how “poorly done” or “unprofessional-looking.” Gerard never complained, though. Gerard always smiled, always said they looked good—always complimented his boyfriend to make sure that Frank would never have to feel self-conscious around him or feel the need to seek validation from someone else.

Frank, his Frankie, hadn’t even looked at another man since he and Gerard got together. He didn’t mention it when they would have a cute server at a restaurant or if an attractive guy walked past them in a store. He got a phone number once from a boy who came through his line at the grocery store, but he showed it to Gerard with a laugh and then threw it away and crawled into bed with him. 

Still in his parents’ basement. He’d taken a gap year after recovering from his hospital stay and completing his high school curriculum online, but seemed displeased with his coursework once he enrolled in the local college. Why did he have to study biology and cut things open? Why did he have to read Shakespeare to prove he was competent? What did he need to study math for? He didn’t want to be an engineer…

What did he want to be?

Gerard asked him that a lot, but Frank always just shrugged and went back to strumming his guitar. He’d gotten rather good at playing it—better than Mikey, Gerard had to admit, and he loved hearing Frank play. Acoustic. Electric… Anything at all. One day he’d started singing.

Out of nowhere, he’d opened his mouth and started singing to himself while taking his clothes out of the washer and stuffing them down in the dryer. With his singing came writing—and with writing came more time for him and Gerard to bond. 

Writing together in the basement or in coffee shops seemed to be their only real chance for alone time. They were connected when they talked about music, like nothing else in the world mattered outside of their art and their ideas. Gerard loved that intimacy more than anything. It reminded him of their long car rides when Frank had first been learning to drive. 

He had his license now, though, and a brand new car his father bought him in hopes of reclaiming his place as an important figure in Frank’s life. It had upset Don and Donna since they’d been planning to get him a car, but they tried not to show it to him. He deserved to have one relative left—one true parent. 

Around Christmas time the year before, Frank had gone to see his mother in the psychiatric hospital. He refused to let Gerard come, refused to even tell Donna where he was going until he’d already parked in the parking lot. He went in, visited with his mother for close to three hours, then came home and cried into Gerard’s shoulder while reiterating the whole ordeal.

She had been kind, but she wasn’t “his mother” anymore. She recognized him, but didn’t antagonize him. She was sick, he said. So very, very sick. The wickedness had left her eyes, but she seemed so broken in that awful place bathed all in white. She asked him if he were still a sinner, then clicked her tongue and told him it was just no good and he shouldn’t come back until he’d “seen the error of his ways and returned to God.” She wasn’t the same person anymore, and Gerard couldn’t understand why that made Frank so sad.

He stayed with his father some weekends and talked to Gerard about moving to New York to be nearer to him. He loved his father and liked getting to meet and know his grandfather and his uncle. In some ways, Gerard was happy to see Frank reestablishing his place in the world, but at the same time it filled him with fear. What if Frank started to like that family more than the one he had now? What if he decided he didn’t want to live with Donna anymore and wanted to forsake the Way family all together and return to his father? What if he turned out to be that cruel?

But so far Frank seemed to be happy where he was. He tattooed Halloween on knuckles last week and seemed to enjoy the fact that his managers at the grocery store wanted to fire him for it. He loved causing problems and getting attention in all the wrong ways. He loved acting out and seeing how far he could push before Gerard responded and pulled him back down to Earth. No matter what he did, no matter how much trouble or chaos he caused, he knew Gerard would always be there to reel him back in. He knew Gerard would always be there for him.

That was what made this so hard.

“I need to tell you something, Baby,” Gerard said, moving to hold Frank a little tighter where he lay against his chest.

“Hm?” Frank groaned and shifted around, twisting his arms this way and that until he had his freshly-inked fingers entwined with Gerard’s. “What’s that?” He slurred, mostly asleep.

“I want to talk to you about something.”

“Hmm? About how I’m the best lay you ever had?—‘Cause I think you told me that about nine times already tonight.” He chuckled softly and pushed his face up into Gerard’s neck, not quite nuzzling him but burying his eyes from view. 

“No, it’s not that. It’s… It’s kind of important. Nothing bad though! I don’t want you to freak out or anything.”

“What?” Frank asked, waking up more and more until he came to rest propped up against to headboard. 

“I’m thinking about moving to the city,” Gerard said. He’d rehearsed the conversation many times in his head, his punchline changing each time like some inconsistent joke he was trying to make up. 

“What, like… Like Jersey City or…or New York?” There was so much confusion and hurt on Frank’s face.

“New York,” Gerard confessed, shifting around until he too was sitting up straight. 

“Oh…” He lowered his gaze, staring down at his decorated fingers and biting his lip as he scrutinized them—as if he thought maybe they were a step too far, as if he believed his fresh tattoos were the reason Gerard wanted to jump ship.

“I don’t want us to break up or anything. I just… I don’t know. I can’t live here anymore. There’s a couple of positions I applied for and a job I bid on with Spend N Save’s corporate office…”

“You could’ve said something before I enrolled in school,” Frank said, pulling back and taking a pile of the blankets with him. “If you wanted me to come… That’s just it, isn’t it? You don’t want me to come.”

“Yes, I do. It just… I-I don’t know, Frank. I can’t live here anymore. I’m too old to be living in my parent’s basement—to be living with my _boyfriend_ in my parents’ basement.”

“So…what, then? You’re going to get a job in New York and you’re going to leave me here? That’s not fair! My dad asked me to move in with him after I got my diploma! I told him no because I wanted to stay here with _you!_ Now you’re leaving?—Just like that!?”

“You can come with me, Frank. You can finish up the year at your school and transfer—”

“I don’t _want_ to transfer!”

“Frank, please… I’m not doing this to hurt you. I’m a grown man. It’s time I moved out of my parents’ house.”

“Yeah, that’s fine, but you don’t have to move to the city!”

“There are more options there, Frank!”

“I don’t care! I’m not pissed at you for exploring options, alright? I’m mad that you made plans to do it without even asking me—without even _telling_ me!”

“I’m telling you _now.”_

“Now that it’s too late for me to do anything! I can’t just transfer after one semester! If you’d told me sooner, I could’ve moved in with my _dad!_ I could’ve gotten settled!”

“You can transfer—”

“I don’t _want to!_ Aren’t you listening to me? I don’t want to move to New York where the only person I know is you! I have friends here! I don’t want to be isolated again.”

Gerard was quiet for a long time after that, not knowing what to say. Truthfully, he hadn’t been thinking about moving when Frank’s father had offered all those months ago. He’d only started thinking about it as the borders of his hometown seemed to him to be closing in around him. He felt claustrophobic and trapped.

He felt like he’d run out of options, even after being hired back to Spend N Save. He returned to his old position, but moved from store to store so much and he was sick of spending two weeks out of town sleeping in hotels when he could just have one home in one city with one job at one location.

Stability. 

He wanted stability. And to achieve that, he felt he needed to make it to New York.

“Frank, I was thinking about going back to school… I saved up. I paid off my old loans. I haven’t applied or anything, but if I do go back, my school would be in New York.”

Frank groaned and turned away, looking at the wall instead of his boyfriend’s face. How many times had Frank suggested Gerard go back? He was caught now and risked making himself look inconsiderate if he protested again. Gerard didn’t mean to put him in that position, but it made him feel better when Frank agreed with him.

“Fine. So move to New York,” Frank said, trying to mask his hurt with an air of indifference as he shoved away the blankets and got up from the bed. He got dressed, then went upstairs where Gerard could hear the refrigerator door open and then slam closed. Frank always ate when he got upset.

( ) ( ) ( )

He doesn’t hate New York, he just hates that it’s not New Jersey. It’s too crowded, no one is kind to anyone else, and Gerard is always at work or in class so it’s lonely. Jamia has talked about moving up to the city, but never made any solid plans. He really hoped she’d come, just so he’d have one person to go exploring with since Gerard was always too busy for him. 

It wasn’t terrible, though. He came home from classes to his and Gerard’s own apartment, got to eat a snack before work or before sitting down to do homework or study. His schooling was getting boring and it was his electric guitar that captured his attention more and more whenever Gerard wasn’t around to tell him to stop playing it because it would disturb the neighbors. He had a new one, a pretty green one, that he liked a lot, but he kept the one Donna had given him for Christmas. Pansy, he called it, giving it a personality all its own as he stuck reflective stickers on it to declare its name to the world. 

It reminded him of home whenever he played Pansy. It reminded him of Donna and how much he missed her and her wonderful cooking. He didn’t get to visit as much as he wanted to and Donna very, very seldom made the drive up on her own to spend time with him. It made him sad, to be truthful, but it was all a part of growing up. He couldn’t be with Donna forever, no matter how close to being his real mother she was. He couldn’t just live in her basement the rest of his life… 

At least he could say he was thankful not to have to live with Don anymore. He didn’t hate (just like he didn’t hate New York), but he wasn’t going to call that man his father. Part of him loved the man for having taken him in, for keeping him fed and trying to teach him the skills he’d need to survive in the world, but Frank would never forget how awful that man could make him feel at any given time. No one’s words had ever hurt him quite like Don’s had…Frank was happy to be away from the constant reminder of the worst day of his life—the worst mistake of his life. The details were all still so hazy, but Frank could never forget how dark the days of his recovery had been. He would never forget how devastated he’d felt when he found out he was the reason Gerard had gone back to cutting.

Yes, Frank was grateful to be away from the constant reminder of _that._

“Baby, guess what!” Gerard hadn’t even been thirty seconds in the door of their apartment and he was already bursting into the bedroom where Frank sat strumming his guitar. “Guess what!”

“You’re pregnant and I’m the father?” Frank said, jotting down a series of chords in his notebook so he wouldn’t forget where he left off. He was really onto something here…

“No, come on. Guess!”

“I don’t know,” Frank said as he set his guitar aside and leaned over the edge of the bed to give Gerard his welcome home kiss on the lips. 

“I have an interview tomorrow afternoon before class, can you believe it?”

“A job interview? For what?” Frank asked, his heart skipping a beat because the only job he remembered Gerard mentioning was for an art therapy position at a young adult mental rehabilitation center. It was a job he really wanted, but wouldn’t be qualified for until he finished up his degree in the summer.

“That center I was telling you about, the one down in Jersey. I talked to the director on the phone today and I told her my classes weren’t over until summer but she still wanted to meet with me.”

“That’s great!” Frank exclaimed, smiling like an idiot and not just because it sounded like he was going to be able to move back to Jersey once the lease was up on their apartment. 

“I have to build my portfolio tonight. I made up that one, but I don’t think it fits with the job.”

Gerard had bounded away from the bed and was digging around under the bed where he kept his portfolio safe and out of harm’s way. 

“Just don’t go through all the effort to change it and then put it back the way it was at two in the morning like you did last time.”

“Hey, I got the offer on that job though,” Gerard said, looking up from his sheaf of drawings. 

“And you turned it down,” Frank said. It inspired him, really, to see Gerard following his dreams again. He was content at Spend N Save, but he wasn’t exactly happy with his career. School was expensive, but Frank even chipped in what he could to help with Gerard’s tuition. They were partners now, a team, and Gerard’s success was his success as well. 

“The hours were shitty. I would’ve made less than I do at Spend N Save and it wasn’t even something I really _liked._ ” He turned his focus back to his works, then set the black portfolio on the bed beside Frank. 

Frank set his guitar aside and gave Gerard the attention he demanded

“So…which do you like better? This one or these?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate to say that this is the end. I feel there are probably loose strings that need tied, but I'm really not sure where else to take the story that wouldn't just drag it out. It's a little open ended, but I think you can see where they're heading--and it's certainly no place bad. Thank you so much for reading this far and putting up with my long hiatuses and unnecessary emotional abuse. This fic has been more of a pleasure to write than anything else and I will be forever grateful for how warmly it was received by all of you. I know I'll never write anything quite as good or as popular as (Mama) has been, but I still hope to see you again soon with my other fics and maybe some new ones too. 
> 
> All my love,
> 
> Jatty

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to comment to let me know what you think! 
> 
> Also, you can find me on Twitter @Jatty_Sinful for live story updates and news!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
